


Pulse

by TK_DuVeraun



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Bad Lore Interpretations - but fun ones, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, F/M, Pining, Post-Academy Romance, Spoilers all routes, Suicide mention, Surprise it's Dimitri, baby wyverns doo doo doo doo, character deaths with divine pulse, oh boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-13 06:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 28,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20578085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun
Summary: At first, Sothis was the only one who cared about keeping the children alive. But then they were her friends; they were people with names and faces who could draw out emotions Byleth had never felt before. Unfortunately, winding back time doesn't always fix things and her father's diary leaves her with more questions than answers....And Claude is too clever for anyone's good.Featuring: Dimitri strapped to the therapy couch, existential horror because Heroes Relics are made of people, Creepy Grandma and pre-marital h*nd-h*lding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy! Here we go! As it says in the tags, the romance is strictly post-Academy. While it is roughly GD/Verdant Wind route, this story may contain information only canonically learned via other routes.
> 
> As a final note: canon is more like guidelines than anything.

The light rain was hard to hear, at least in the ground floor of the dormitory. Byleth pressed her face to the window wanted, no, wished, that the eaves from the second floor didn’t block the pitter-patter-splat of drops from the sky. She couldn’t cry anymore. Sothis believed that her presence had caused the wall between Byleth and her emotions and now that she was sulking and demanding that she stop grieving the tears were beyond her. She couldn’t cry, so she wanted to hear the sky doing it for her.

“Father...” For years, twenty, if her father’s diary was correct and it was because he was the most clever person she knew, she’d had him, known him, called him father and yet… And yet, the word felt so foreign in her mouth. As if her muted emotions made her unworthy of him. Her lungs clenched in her chest and Byleth wondered what real heartbreak felt like. Would her grief pass faster if every aching tick of her pulse came with an ache in her heart as blood was pumped through the eviscerated organ.

Scattered across her desk were books and papers borrowed from Manuela - anatomy and the inner, medical workings of the body. She hadn’t believed Byleth’s lie about wanting to learn more to better use her White Magic, but had passed the materials over regardless. Manuela thought, and drunkenly told Hanneman two nights later, that she wanted to learn how to heal the wound that had killed her father. That she was obsessed with what-if’s.

Byleth slashed her hand against the desk and a book went flying. There was the screech of tearing paper as it hit the rug. She clenched her fist, her vision flickered and then the book was back, splayed open over an intricate diagram of a heart. She knew what if. That obsession had come in the moment and she’d turned back the hands of time until she saw stars and her blood felt as weak as water in her veins. It didn’t matter where she stood, how she attacked or far back she dragged the clock hands. Monica stabbed her father and that creature with white eyes, Thales, appeared to block her.

He must have known the power of the goddess. Must have a spell designed precisely to counter turning back time. Byleth refused to believe it was fate. Her father was dead. She could accept that there was nothing she could do, but to call it fate was too much. Fate meant there was purpose behind it. Fate meant good would come of it.

“Teach?” Claude knocked on the door and then tried the knob.

Byleth turned from the window and saw the surprise on his face that it was unlocked. He looked down at his hand, as if suspecting it of magic, then scrambled to balance the basket in his other hand.

“Can I, uh, come in?” He shook the basket at her.

She stared at him. At his pristine uniform and whole skin. The further back she’d shoved time, the worse the outcome became. Thales didn’t settle for blocking the Sword of the Creator - no, if her hubris took her too far back, he Warped Claude to his side and used  _ his _ body to block the strike. It had been the first, second and third times she’d seen him die. 

Leonie fell out of a tree onto a rock in the first week. Hilda was allergic to a Dagdan flower. Ignatz slipped on the stairs. Raphael choked on a bone. Lorenz had no luck at all, splitting his skull open when stumbling back from a rejection. Lysithea pushed herself too hard, fainted and never woke up. Marianne had intentionally- Marianne had- Byleth had learned there was a better reason Marianne avoided going to town than her adopted father’s decree.

But Claude had never died. He’d never given her nightmares of how fragile life was, how easy it was to die without the intervention of the goddess. If it wasn’t for her, for her own desperate attempts to save her father, she never would have seen the light go out in his eyes. Wouldn’t know how confusion could freeze his face into a ghastly mask. The third time, he’d whispered “Teach” with blood on his lips and that was when she’d given up and let her father die.

Claude, the real one, the live one, the whole one, cleared his throat. “Mercedes made you some sweets. I… asked if I could deliver them. She and Annette started giggling and whispering, of course.” The smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes, didn’t even begin to touch the creases in his forehead or the tense set of his jaw. “But I wanted to talk to you about Jeralt’s- about your father’s - journal.”

Byleth took the basket and sat on her bed. She pawed at the cloth with little interested. 

Claude closed the door and fidgeted in front of it. He scratched his chin and kept flitting his gaze away from her. He picked up a beaded hairclip, a gift from Hilda, for something to do with his hands. “That is, if it’s okay with you. It can wait. I just saw you walking around yesterday and thought you might be feeling up to it.”

Under the cloth were pastries in the shape of half-circles. Pink jam oozed out of the one on top. Byleth used it to point Claude into her chair.

As if trying to avoid stepping on something, Claude tip-toed across her room to the chair. The floor was empty. Empty and pristinely clean, thanks to Ignatz when she last left for a meal. Claude touched the back of the chair to lower himself down, then pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. He licked his lips and then sat down all at once, catching his cape on the seatback. When he’d freed himself, he looked at his hands. “Sorry. I’m lucky enough that I haven’t lost anyone I was close to, yet. I don’t really know what to do or say.”

She held the pastry out to him. “You need it more.”

Though he hesitated, Claude didn’t argue before taking it. He nibbled on the corner, looking as devoid of appetite as she felt. With a heavy breath, she promised to herself that she would eat one if he ate one and he’d already started, so she didn’t really have a choice.

“This is really good. I should really compliment her. I’m sure that’ll just make them giggle more, but there’s no harm in it.”

Byleth nodded and chewed slowly. It didn’t feel like sand in her mouth, so she swallowed. Albeanian berries. Those were good.

When he finished the pastry, Claude wiped his hands on a kerchief before folding them in his lap. “I guess I’ll start with… He loved you. There was nothing more important to him than you. You changed his life and never, for a single moment, did he regret it.”

His words plugged one of the holes in her heart. How funny grief was. She knew that. She’d read enough of the journal to know that much about her father and everyone who’d known him since he came to the monastery said similar, but still… She nodded.

“But it says…” Claude looked away, his own emotions too much handle the conversation for a moment. “He wrote that you have a pulse and no heartbeat. Now, I’m no physician, but the heartbeat is what causes the pulse, isn’t it?”

Byleth reached past him to her desk and pulled forward one of the anatomy books. She flipped to her red, silk bookmark and turned it to him. 

His lips moved silently as he read the pages. “Trust you to be one step ahead of me.” He traced the words with a finger as he read. “Yeah, this says that the heart is like a well pump, forcing blood through your body like pipes. Right.” He met her eyes. “Is that still the case? That you don’t have a heartbeat?”

Byleth put a hand over her heart. Or where her heart should be. For all she knew, there was an empty cavity in her chest. “I just feel my own pulse when I check. It’s foolish. I’ve tried four times.”

Claude huffed a ghost of a laugh. He could have faked one, but he knew she preferred the truth as much as he did. “I can’t tell you how many times my dad’s wyvern bucked me off for touching his horns before I learned my lesson.”

The very corners of Byleth’s mouth pulled up and didn’t feel horribly unnatural for it.

“The next thing would be to ask Professor Manuela,” Claude paused. “But, of course, she’d ask why you wanted to know. She’s not as quick to experiment as Professor Hanneman, but a pulse with no heartbeat is something like a miracle.” He leaned forward, eyes squinting as he calculated the next course of action.

Another smile tugged at Byleth’s mouth as he arrived at the same string of conclusions she had. His face paled, then flushed, then paled again. He sat up and looked at the window. “We can’t get Hilda to do anything without coaxing her into it - and she’d probably tell her brother. She’d need the full explanation to keep quiet, but I can’t see her acting normal around Rhea if she knew.” He brushed a hand over his hair. “Lysithea has too many of her own problems to worry about. Leonie would demand to read the journal. Marianne…”

“Too skittish.”

“She’s getting better.” Claude met her eyes and then averted them to the ceiling. He swallowed and looked back at the anatomy book. “It says here that it’s difficult to  _ feel _ a heartbeat at all, especially with female patients.” He shifted in the chair and risked eye contact. “You’d think it would be hard to feel a wyvern’s pulse, you know, through the scales and all. But they’re not so different from us. Smarter than some people I know.”

“Do you ever listen for their heartbeats?”

The question transformed his face. Light sparkled in his eyes and the tension in his body was glee. He shook with happy energy. “You can hear them in the eggs. If the queen will let you close enough… Teach, it’s the best sound in the world.”

Byleth tugged on his wrist before the embarrassment could take him over again. “Then you know what you’re listening for.”

Bracing himself with one hand, Claude leant in, pressing his ear against the front of her jacket. Silence hung between them, like even the rain clouds were holding their breath. 

“I don’t hear anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on [tumblr ](https://tk-duveraun.tumblr.com/)to chat and hang out and see my glorious shitpost receptacle.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been foolish to think revenge would make her feel better. How many times had she and her father given a client revenge by proxy only to see them more numb than they had been before? Maybe there was irony in it - that she felt more in touch with her emotions than ever. Everything about the fight against Solon and Kronya made her uncomfortable, but both “everything” and “uncomfortable” were too small to encompass it.

Where to begin? With the lingering feel of acidic slime from where the tendrils of shadow had grabbed her? The disgust that churned in her gut from walking into an obvious trap? The ice on her spine from putting her students, her friends, in such danger? New aspects appeared, each more horrible than the last, the more she thought about it. To a point. One thing wore a clear crown of “the worst part.”

In all of their eyes, Byleth saw the same shadow that lingered in her own. The stomach-twisting, sense-obscuring, lingering ghost of a death that never happened. They might not have wound back the clock, but they saw her die, grieved, suffered and then had those feelings thrown in their faces before they could settle. The certainty of truth and stability was forever lost to them. Loss was one thing, but to have the bottom of their stomachs drop out, only to be violently thrust down their throats was another.

“Teach.”

Claude always started their conversations like that. It wasn’t a title or a nickname anymore. Something in the tenor of his voice made it clear that it meant something else entirely. It was like a private joke, a secret meaning to only those who knew. The shadow sat heavy and dark in his eyes, no matter how much he insisted he’d never thought her dead.

Byleth patted the damp wood of the dock next to her. The fishing pond was quiet under the moonlight. Experimentally, she swung her legs over the water, the way she saw children do, but whatever they got out of it was still beyond her. She’d hoped that joining with Sothis would remove the cloud between her and her feelings, but they were still just lights in the mist. She patted Claude’s shoulder when he sat. “You should be sleeping.”

“You’re one to talk.” He shoved her without force. “I can’t stop thinking about… Well, everything.”

“Hilda knew there was something wrong with Monica,” she murmured.

“She makes such a show of being lazy; it’s easy to miss her real strengths. She can’t get people to do what she wants if she can’t read them like a book.” Claude leaned back, propping himself up on his palms. “What we really need is to get her some one-on-one time with Rhea. Then we’ll have some answers.”

“Maybe…”

“Don’t be like that. Let me have this. All we have are questions.”

“The Flame Emperor said they weren’t involved with Remire…”

“And that was Solon, so if we can believe them, we can’t assume they were involved with your father’s death and…” He cleared his throat. “The Flame Emperor seems like such a non-issue when compared to that spell and turning students into demonic beasts.”

Byleth kicked her feet again. Her father had said that short bursts of movement like that could vent anxiety, but it didn’t help the twisting in her gut and brain. “Before Flayn was kidnapped, Solon asked about Flayn, Father and me…”

“Do you think you have special blood, too? Could be. Alois said Jeralt didn’t change an inch after twenty years and he didn’t look forty when I met him. So if the special blood slows or pauses aging… Well, Flayn certainly doesn’t act sixteen or whatever age she’s pretending to be.”

“She didn’t answer when I asked.”

“Me neither. She wiggled out of the conversation like a fish.”

Byleth smiles with half her mouth. “She’d like that.”

“Hah! She would, wouldn’t she?” Claude laughed, but it didn’t last. He sat up and scrubbed his hair with both hands. “But you can wield the Sword of the Creator without its Crest stone. That could be enough to warrant their interest in you. And what he called you. The Fallen Star. Not to discount your celestial qualities, but why that of all things? Argh, I could waste months trying to puzzle this out.”

“I think,” Byleth said into the moonlight, “there are four factions at play here.”

“Solon, the Flame Emperor, Rhea and…?”

Byleth gestured between them with a single finger.

Claude closed his hand over hers. “Good to know we’re on the same page. Rhea’s the only one we have access to right now. She had some connection with your mother. If you’d allow it… We might be able to leverage what we know about her from Jeralt’s diary to get her to talk.”

“She wants to talk.”

“Then why not make time? Why let Seteth and everything keep interrupting her? And this ceremony at the Holy Tomb: why is it so urgent? Why do it at all? You told me Sothis was gone. Sort of. Part of you now. This is a mess, Teach.”

She stared at the moon’s reflection on the water. Her memories slipped in front of her mind like a series of sketches. “I… didn’t tell her.”

His breath caught in his chest and then Claude pulled on her shoulder until they were facing each other. “Didn’t tell who, what? You didn’t tell Rhea about merging with Sothis?”

“I don’t think I did, no.”

His mouth worked open and closed, but he couldn’t settle on words to say. He covered it with one hand. “But you told me.”

“You and me and the others… Sothis saw us all as her children. Rhea… She was a threat.” Byleth shook her head. “Even before we read Father’s diary.”

“We’re missing something. Something important. I don’t like not knowing. I don’t like that your mother’s name was removed from her grave. I don’t like that your father doesn’t have a birthdate. We know yours, now anyway, but…” He exhaled everything in his lungs at once. “I can’t plan when I don’t know what I’m planning for.”

“Seteth has been arguing with her.”

“I heard Flayn worrying about it. He really didn’t like you at first, but now… Call me a hopeless optimist, but I think he’s on our side. Maybe he knows Rhea did something to you as a baby. He’s got a real wyvern queen vibe.”

“Too critical of Father.”

Claude laced his fingers behind his head. “Can you blame him, though? I understand it now that I’ve read the diary, but not knowing anything about your mother? Your own age? His age? There are a lot of reasons to keep things secret and ‘he thought it was the best thing for your safety’ is pretty far down.”

“It’s an extraordinary situation.”

“More like, you’re an extraordinary person.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Speaking of, do you have a heartbeat now?”

Byleth blinked and pressed her hand to her chest before remembering that didn’t work. “My chest doesn’t feel any different.”

Claude licked his lips and something about his eyes changed before he replied. He wasn’t squinting, but his gaze was… focused. And when he did speak, his voice was low. “You don’t feel your heart racing? Skipping beats? ...Fluttering?”

In a flash, she grabbed his ear and twisted.

“Ouch! Hey, I was kidding! Kidding! Stop, you’re gonna pull my earring out.”

Byleth dragged him by the ear until his head hovered over her chest. After he had time to listen, she asked, “Nothing?”

He pulled away and fussed with his cape, looking out over the water. “Nothing. But, you know, Teach…” It wasn’t the word he wanted to say. “It doesn’t make you any less human. Not to me or anyone that matters.”

“Go to bed, Claude. I’ll tell you if I learn anything.”

“I’ll- We’ll have your back during this ceremony. If Rhea is some villain… We know what’s important.” He brushed his fingers against the back of her hand before leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baby wyveryn doo doo doo doo doo doo


	3. Chapter 3

Rhea’s enthusiasm for the ceremony only grew as the day approached. Byleth had questions, but believed both that they would remain unanswered and that Rhea would… She didn’t have words. The intimate way Rhea had cradled her after Solon’s failed attack felt… violating. Raised as a mercenary, in the company of mercenaries, with the Blade Breaker as her father, she’d never feared sexual assault, if she’d feared anything at all, but she couldn’t shake the unease Rhea made her feel. 

Byleth cornered Seteth outside the monastery. It hadn’t been difficult to arrange. All she had to do was talk to Flayn about maple candies until her eyes glittered and she couldn’t concentrate on the conversation anymore. Two hours later, there Seteth was, strolling out to the market.

“Ah, I had wondered what inspired Flayn to such an intense craving. I might have suspected you had something to do with it, Professor.” Despite his past behavior, he spoke with no suspicion or malice. If anything, the smile on his face seemed fond. “Please, walk with me. I have some idea what you want to speak on.”

Byleth fell in step with him and nodded when he seemed to be waiting for a response.

“I apologize, but I read some of your father’s diary. You wish to know if Lady Rhea did something to you and, if so, what. I’m afraid I cannot answer that for you. She has not spoken of it to me; I have only speculation and that will not help either of us.”

She’d expected as much, given Flayn’s worry of them fighting. What she wanted to ask was simple, so plain that the words stalled in her mouth, as if he might answer unprompted. “How do you know Lady Rhea?”

Seteth tilted his head slightly to the right as he worked on his phrasing. “We are old friends. And, of course, I am a devout follower of the Church of Seiros.”

“My father never knew you before we came to Garreg Mach,” Byleth said. She let the words walk between them, but continued before Seteth formulated his response. “And he adored Lady Rhea with all of Catherine and Cyril’s zeal. For more than one hundred years.”

A grimace crossed Seteth’s face, though he smoothed his expression after.

“If it’s easier… Why do you trust her?”

“It is,” he said, though he didn’t immediately answer. They walked through the town in silence. He tried to purchase the maple sweets, but the vendor refused both his and Byleth’s coin. He handed her a single candy from the package with a wry lift of his eyebrow. “You’ve killed many people. Perhaps some that were innocent of nothing more criminal than being a minor inconvenience, during your time as a mercenary.”

She popped the candy in her mouth and nodded.

“Yet everyone in the monastery adores you. Even those that hold morals staunchly opposed to mercenary life. You have proven yourself to them and to me. And take Alois. I know you did not care for him when you first arrived, yet, with your shared loss, there is now a bond.”

Unbidden, Byleth’s nose wrinkled. “He’s loud.”

Seteth laughed with his head thrown back. “He is. Flayn tells me so perhaps once every fortnight. Still, my point stands.” He continued at her nod. “Lady Rhea and I have such a bond. Take of that what you will.”

“You defer to her.”

“You did not come with simple questions; that much is certain.”

It wasn’t an answer, but it was more than she’d expected to get, so Byleth didn’t push as they returned to the monastery. The sky was clear and birds called their annoyance and pleasure into the afternoon. She walked a few steps with her eyes closed, simply feeling the sun on her cheeks. It felt no different than it had before merging with Sothis, but she would have been disappointed to lose it.

He stopped her at the outer gates with a raised palm. He didn’t look at her. “Professor- No, Byleth… I have found there to be very few things in this life worth risking such a bond over.”

They parted ways and Byleth went back to her room. She had her desk nearly blocking the door, making it more like an office than a bedroom, but when her students were prone to visiting at all hours for help, she needed some kind of barrier to add formality. It had been her father’s idea, so there was no chance of her changing the arrangement. She’d barely sat down when Claude entered, twirling an arrow between his fingers.

“What was that about?”

“Hmm?” She tilted her head and held her chin.

“I saw you talking to Seteth. Did he tell you anything?”

“Were you spying on me?”

“Yes.” He grinned and sat on the edge of her desk. “Something’s going to disrupt the ceremony. You’re distressingly easy to poison, among other things.”

Her eyebrows shot up under her bangs.

“No, I haven’t dosed you with anything.” He paused. “Recently. Kidding! Just kidding! Though I can’t say it doesn’t make me anxious watching you eat sometimes. Anyway, enough about that. Did Seteth tell you anything?”

She shrugged and sat back in her chair. “Just confirmed what you already suspected.”

“That he’s not happy about what Rhea did to you? That he’s also suspicious of the ceremony?”

Byleth only nodded.

Claude rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “It’s nice to be right, but that doesn’t really help. If we could get into the Holy Tomb, scout it ahead of time, then I’d feel a lot better about this. I tried to go down there, but there’s just some… empty room. Obviously there’s some kind of mechanical contraption but I couldn’t find any way to operate it.”

“A mechanical contraption?”

“You’ve seen cargo lifts, right? To load and unload ships?”

Byleth rested her chin on her hand. “You means ropes? With a…” She waved her hand, trying to think of the word. “Pulley?”

“No, they’re much more sophisticated than that, in Derdriu, at least. Anyway, the details don’t matter. I’m certain there’s it’s a lift of some kind, but how to operate it…” He leaned back across her desk, seemingly careless, but he didn’t knock anything off.

“Magic?”

Claude snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. He snapped a few more times, twisting his wrist, as if that would help. Eventually a breeze swept through the room, despite the fact that the door and window were both closed. “Probably, but as you know, no luck there.”

“Magical skill isn’t luck-”

“Yes, Teach, sorry, please. I got the lecture from Lysithea yesterday.”

She stared at him.

“And last week.”

“...”

“Your face will get stuck staring at me disapprovingly and one day you’ll want a different expression.”

She raised an eyebrow.

He sat up and loosely pinched her cheek. “You love me.”

“Focus.”

With a sigh, Claude got off her desk and sat in the chair opposite her. “I’m trying, Teach. I have the others convinced that we’ve got in hand, but not being able to prepare is driving me up the wall. How are we even going to get our weapons in? You’ll be completely undefended.”

“You’re coming as my loyal warriors. You can at least get ceremonial weapons in. Ask Seteth for details.”

“He does love propriety. You’d be amazed at how often I hear him lecturing Sylvain.”

“I doubt it.”

“Yeah, probably not.” He grinned. “At least I’m not as bad as him, right?”

“Arguably.”

“I’m wounded.”

“See Manuela.”

“Alright, I get it. I’ll get back to training. I’ll let you know if I learn anything.” He patted her shoulder and went to the door. “Stay safe, Teach. We made a promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled writing Seteth, but in the end I'm pleased with how the exchange went. <s>He's daddy</s>
> 
> Thoughts?


	4. Chapter 4

The ceremony in the Holy Tomb went as terribly as Claude expected. Rhea’s abject despair when Byleth didn’t receive a ‘revelation’ only solidified her doubts. Edelgard’s betrayal felt personal. Like a dagger stabbed into one of the soft, healing wounds in her heart from her father’s death. The nightmares Edgelgard suffered… They had to be related. The second time Byleth had found her suffering from them, though, she’d closed herself off and refused to speak of them. Should she have pushed? Could she have done something?

Dimitri was… gone. Lost, deep in his own mind. While her own students feared for their families and territories, the Blue Lions could only watch in horror as their future king drifted further from them. 

“Professor.” Felix had approached her in her room that was now only an office with books and maps spread across her bed. The clouds in his eyes had turned into raging storms and mouth was more resigned than cross. “You’re strong. I could learn a lot by watching you up close. I’d like to join your class.”

There were so many things she didn’t say to him. “You’re not a student anymore. You’re a general.” “There are no classes; we’re at war.” “You think the Kingdom is doomed.” Instead, she examined him: the proud, upward tilt to his chin, the clean lines of freshly tied-back hair, determination holding his body ready for a fight. She said, “Of course, Felix. You can get a schedule from Hilda.”

She held her hand out to his. When he took it, she squeezed it tight: not a handshake. Byleth had hoped it said what her eyes couldn’t: “I’m sorry it’s come to this. You deserve better.”

He nodded once, sharp enough to cut fabric, and left.

With the Imperial army so close, Claude was likely right: Edelgard had been planning her invasion for months. Soothing the girl’s nightmares wouldn’t have helped; not once the gears of war were already spinning. She’d promised the Empire’s nobles a war against Seiros. They would have one: with or without her. That hurt more than the betrayal itself. Even if Edelgard came to her senses, it was out of her hands. Why did humans love to fight? Why did war turn into a need like food and water?

“My friend.” Not Teach, not anymore, and Claude didn’t knock, didn’t say anything before he swept into her room and locked the door behind him. He slid the flimsy curtain shut with a jerk of his arm and sat on her bed, crushing the linen map there. He met her eyes and the carefree facade, the leader’s confidence sloughed off him like heavy snow. A muscle twitched in his lips, begging them to tremble and horror widened his eyes. “Now’s not the time, but we don’t have time. Not anymore.”

Ignoring the books, he was more important, Byleth sat next to him and took his hand in both of hers. It was damp with sweat and his fingers fluttered in hers: not trying to get away, simply unable to remain still. “I will make it okay.”

“‘Course you will.” He squeezed her hand. “That’s not why I’m here, though. You trust me, right?”

And that was the first question he ever asked her that he didn’t already know, or at least suspect, the answer to. He’s not on the verge of tears, but there’s something about his eyes, something that tints the green the wrong color. She doesn’t like it. No, she hates it. Normally, she would nod or tilt her head in response, but not that time. Not when Claude looked at her with those eyes. “Yes. With everything.”

“Give me…” Even after her response, he couldn’t say the words. Not seriously. 

But he didn’t need to. Byleth drew the Sword of the Creator, on her hip even in sleep since Edelgard made her intentions clear. She passed the blade to him hilt first.

One hand curled around the hilt and the other dug into his pocket. Clumsy with his left hand, Claude pulled out a scrap of paper and opened it over the sword. It was a medical drawing with Manuela’s notes scratched around the edges. A drawing of a human spine. Claude looked between the drawing and the sword. His skin paled three shades. “That general of Edelgard’s… He didn’t just want the Crest Stones. He wanted the bones, too.”

Byleth didn’t have words for him. She’d seen countless spines. Mostly animals, but still. She should have recognized the sword for what it was. Should have noticed the color, the texture, something. Bones were supposed to be too fragile to use as weapons, but, but… “The drawing of the Immaculate One.”

“It had a Crest Stone on its forehead.” Claude’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “A creature like that, its bones could make… a weapon.” He swallowed a lump in his throat, looked away and swallowed again. “And the Gautier relic, it looked kind of… Alive. Didn’t it?”

Around the blade of the Lance of Ruin were protrusions that now, in this new context, looked like nothing more than boney fingers. Why could she remember that in such clarity, but barely picture her father’s face? Tears pricked at her eyes and her stomach roiled. When Claude shoved the blade onto the floor, she grabbed her hand, though who squeezed harder was impossible to answer. “Wouldn’t Sothis have known?”

“If she’s a goddess, would physical form really matter?” Claude’s words were muttered and empty of emotion. “The legends say that the Heroes’ Relics were gifts from the Goddess. Bones and whatever the Crest Stones are, I can’t picture those as being appropriate gifts.”

Byleth stared at her floor, avoiding the sword. She pictured Thunderbrand and Lùin and the other Heroes’ Relics she’d seen. In her mind’s eye, blood seeped from the blades.

“But the Immaculate one was supposedly sent by the Goddess, so did the Crests of the Ten Elites come from other divine creatures?” He laughed, hysteria rocking his chest like sobs. He didn’t still until Byleth freed her hand and put it on his back. “Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it? I don’t know if there’s any amount of satisfaction that’ll make my hands feel clean.”

The bell in the clock tower rang, but the sound was impossibly far away, barely penetrating the horror swirling in the room. Byleth put her arm around Claude’s shoulders. It was awkward and ached a little, at least until he slouched and shuffled down. He took a deep breath and then sighed. He did that four times, a little color more returning to his face with each repetition. 

“Well, that’s a lot of things to ask Linhardt once this war is over. Edelgard’s army isn’t going to stop for an existential crisis or two.” He brushed her arm off with a shrug of his shoulders, though he touched her hand as she pulled it back. “Or Rhea, I guess, but I can’t see her telling us much.” He stood and swung his arms, stepping over the sword like it was a gaping hole in the floor. “I’ve got training to do. Letters to write. People to calm. I’ll check in tomorrow, bring you some food.”

“Thank you.”

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you.”

Byleth stood and nudged the sword under her bed with her foot. “Don’t be. It’s good to know.” When he still lingered, she walked over and straightened his cape, smoothing the wrinkles.

He snatched her hand as she pulled it back. His hold was gentle, but his fingers burned against hers. Claude stared into her eyes. “Byleth… Whatever Rhea did to you, whatever we learn, nothing will change how I see you. How I feel about you.”

Their gazes held until she pulled her hand back, her fingers grazing his the entire way. “I know.”

“We’ll reach our ambitions.”

“Together.”

For a moment, his face lit up and he transformed back into a teenager with too much responsibility and too much cleverness. He grinned before bowing to her with a flourish and swish of his cape. “See ya later, Teach.”

When the door closed behind him, Byleth suddenly felt the breath return to her body. She felt hot and cold at once. Something had happened, more than discovering the, possible, truth of the Heroes’ Relics. Edelgard was bringing war to Fódlan and Byleth knew she would go to the Leicester Alliance with Claude and the others and would fight with them. Lorenz and Lysithea, especially, would need her. Gloucester territory bordered the Empire and Lysithea’s family still had imprints of Imperial boots on their necks.

She glanced at the floor, at the Sword of the Creator. Would she be able to use it again? They didn’t know for sure it was made from the bones of some divine creature. Would Rhea have even allowed such a thing to exist, if that were true? If the choice was between using the sword and letting one of her friends die, the answer was simple, wasn’t it? What had Seteth said? “There are very few things in this life worth losing so much over.” Using something’s - someone’s - bones as a weapon was terrible and left a sour taste in her mouth, but she’d seen them die before. She knew how much it hurt, over and over.

She would use everything in her power to keep them safe. Even if it meant turning back time and tearing her heart to shreds. Even if it meant using… that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I can't be the only one who took one look at the SotC and said, "That looks like a spinal column."
> 
> Also, Claude is a Good Boy(tm)
> 
> Let me know what you think :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is my first-ever fic to reach 1000 hits! In celebration, I'm posting chapter 5 early.

Five years. Five years ago she’d made a promise. Made two, but one she could fulfill. The other… For all she knew, Claude was dead. The thought scraped against her heart like a crude whetstone. If she even had a heart, without a heartbeat. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she climbed the rough road to the monastery. Nature had done its best to take over the path and she remembered that Claude believed in nature before the goddess and she couldn’t blame him. One they saw proof of every day. The other had merged with her in a place of pure nothingness.

The sun warmed her back. The grime from five years asleep felt like a thick, disgusting coat, but a bath sat at the bottom of her list of priorities. If any of her students, friends, were still alive, they’d show up. That they would come at the promised time wasn’t a question. She found Claude first, standing on a parapet with the sun on his face. 

If the overgrown ruins of the monastery hadn’t convinced her that five years had passed, one look at him would have. He was taller and his tan deeper. His facial hair was trying its best and would have looked comical on anyone else. He turned to her just as she ran at him, throwing his arms wide and clutching her like a lifeline. They swayed in the morning light. Claude’s voice cracked with emotion. “You’re late, my friend.”

“I overslept,” Byleth said because the only other thing that came to mind was “You’re tall” and that went without saying when her face was pressed into his shoulder. She pressed her hands into his back and for the first time since Edelgard revealed herself, relaxed.

“Don’t tell me you slept the whole time.” He correctly interpreted the way she tensed in his arms. “Of course you slept for five years. You need goddess-tier beauty sleep, after all.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” He squeezed her and then pulled away. He put his hand on the back of her shoulder and gently lead her. “Let’s have something to eat and then you can tell me all about it. I didn’t bring much - I wasn’t expecting anyone other than you to show - but it’ll be fine.”

As they walked, his hand moved from her shoulder to the center of her back, as if he couldn’t bear to lose contact with her, lest she disappear for another five years. He kept his voice low, another play to keep her near, as he explained the progression, or lack thereof, of the war with the Empire. It didn’t surprise her that Lorenz and the Glouscester territory were allied with the Empire. Nor did it surprise her that Claude sounded proud of him for it. Lorenz, like Ferdinand, had created an epic rivalry entirely in his mind, but unlike Edelgard, Claude engaged and consistently tried to win him over without changing him.

“Is everyone else…?”

“Alive?” He smiled. “Everyone from the Alliance. “I haven’t heard from Felix, but since the Fraldarius Dukedom is one of the few territories still standing in the Kingdom, I imagine his death would be big news.”

The monastery bore the scars of war and five years of disrepair poorly, especially the deeper they went inside the complex. A thousand year old structure was a delicate thing, even if it was made from stone. In the distance, Byleth could see that part of the cathedral’s roof had fallen in. She shuddered to think how bad the interior must look. Ignatz would be devastated. They stopped in the courtyard adjacent to the classrooms, where Claude had made his camp. His beautiful, dark brown wyvern trundled up to Byleth and sniffed her from head to foot before flapping its wings and nuzzling her chest.

“Some war beast you are,” Claude said affectionately. He patted the wyvern between the horns. “As usual, my friend, you just charm everyone. His name is Mirza; my father thought it was funny.” He didn’t explain why it was funny, simply sat and dug through his packs before handing her a stale, somewhat crumbly handpie. They ate in silence. Mirza rolled in the weed-littered grass before nudging Claude’s shoulder and flying off. “He’s going hunting. He’ll be back by nightfall.”

“Did you take lessons from Marianne?”

Claude laughed, but it was cut short by a lance skewering him from behind. The blade, the old, yellow bone of a Hero’s Relic, dripped with his blood. His lips moved, mouthing her name with the last of his life.

Color inverted. Byleth’s head spun as time twisted and shifted around her. At least she hadn’t moved anywhere. Teleporting across the battlefield when she rewound time disoriented her, no matter how many times she did it. Surprise splattered across Claude’s face as she lunged forward and shoved him out of the way. 

The Relic weapon pierced the ground. From the roof of the main hall, they heard a hoarse voice bellow, “Detestable rats! I’ll kill you all.”

“Is that Dimitri?” Claude drew his bow, a beautiful piece made of carved wood that could never be mistaken for bone. He lifted his chin and shouted back, projecting his voice with a technique he only used on the battlefield. “Dimitri! It’s Claude and Professor Byleth! What are you doing?”

“Your ghosts will haunt me no longer!” He leapt from the roof, his black and blue cloak billowing behind him. He landed in the tall grass and a snap cracked through the courtyard, choking Byleth. He collapsed onto his side, a groan leaving him and nothing else.

Byleth rewound time again, fixing the broken leg or arm or whatever it was Dimitri hurt. She stepped up to the building, hoping to change his trajectory. It took three attempts for him to land safely and by that point, she wanted nothing more than to slap him.

So she did.

Claude knelt by his bags, rifling through them without taking his eyes off of Dimitri. Byleth pressed the blade of her sword against his neck and glared, letting the full force of her disapproval wash over him.

“Are you going to kill me, Professor? It’s all a monster like me deserves.” Dimitri grabbed the blade and pulled it closer to his skin.

“Dimitri?! He’s alive?” Hilda’s exclamation broke through the tense atmosphere. 

Dimitri startled, turning toward her. Claude took the opportunity to lunge at him and cover his nose and mouth with a rag. Dimitri struggled against him, but he still had one hand on the sword and his attention split three ways. He slumped under the effects of whatever was on the cloth. Claude slowly set him on the ground.

“Nice timing, Hilda.”

“Did you drug him?”

“In my defense, he did try to kill me.” Claude knelt next to him and examined his face. His cheeks were sunken from dehydration and his skin was yellow and jaundiced. “He looks terrible. Has he been on the run since his execution?”

“But that was years ago!” Hilda, in stark contrast, looked fantastic. Her pink clothes were bright and clean. Her eyes glittered with excitement and she glowed with health. She froze for a moment when she realized Byleth was there. A yelp jumped out from the pit of her stomach and she ran to Byleth, squeezing the life out of her.

“Professor! You’re alive, too! And also need a bath, but so does Leonie and we’ve only been on the road a few days. Where were you?”

She accepted the affection, tilting her head to touch Hilda’s, before pulling away. “I need to heal him. He’s not well.”

“I don’t think a little white magic is going to fix him, but it’s a start,” Claude said.

“Marianne should be here, soon. I got a letter from her a few weeks ago. Unprompted! She said she was going to bring food for everyone else if I brought Raphael’s portion. I did, but it was heavy!”

Hoofbeats interrupted Hilda’s ramble. Leonie entered the courtyard and tried to jump off her horse, but her ankle twisted in her stirrup and Byleth loved her, loved all of them, but she was tired. How had they survived five years without her? She didn’t roll back time and Leonie walked on her ankle as if nothing hurt other than her pride. Maybe she should have left Dimitri with his broken bone, but her white magic told her he might not have had the physical fortitude to recover from it.

“Professor! Hilda! ...I guess Claude’s here, too.”

Claude laughed and clapped Leonie on the shoulder. “Good to see you, too. Can you ride around and pick up any stragglers? There are still thieves in the complex, but we’re a little busy with His Highness, here. Marianne would be ideal.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's a chapter for today! Thanks again for 1000 hits!

That first night, the former Golden Deer students slept in a pile on the floor of their old classroom. With blessing from Felix and Sylvain, whom no one was sure why he was there, Dimitri was left drugged and restrained in the Blue Lions’ room. Marianne had restored some of his vitality, but he would need weeks of regular meals and good hydration to recover physically. Mentally and emotionally… No one really knew.

“It may depend on when and how he acquired Areadbhar,” Lorenz said. He was more than happy to speculate on the prince of Faerghus and otherwise pretend he wasn’t in direct political opposition to the rest of his friends. “I’ve always found that using Thyrsus for any extended period of time leaves me feeling… Rather not myself.”

Claude met Byleth’s eyes across the campfire. After they exchanged nods, he sat straighter. “Not to make our class reunion any worse, but there may be a reason for that.”

For the first time that day, Marianne dropped her gaze to her folded hands.

“Any worse!” Hilda cried, “the professor’s here, we’re all alive, Dimitri is alive, if a little rough around the edges. This is far better than I expected.”

Claude shook his head. With focused movements, he pulled Failnaught out of his pack and laid it next to Areadbhar. He took the Sword of the Creator from Byleth and lined all three weapons up. “Does anything stand out to you guys about these?”

Without a word, Felix and Sylvain threw their relics in line. Aegis, the Fraldarius shield, almost, almost looked like metal.

Leonie turned Failnaught over, touching only the bowstring. “They’re all kind of… lumpy. I’ve seen a bow with a wood knot in it, but nothing like this.”

Ignatz rubbed his chin. “I always thought the Heroes’ Relics were painted that way just to differentiate them from regular weapons, like how you sometimes exaggerate certain features on a royal’s face, but they actually are those strange shapes.”

Lorenz ran his fingers down the length of his staff before adding Thyrsus to the collection. “They do seem odd, now that you mention it. Hardly the sleek and elegant design you would expect of the nobility.”

“The professor’s weapon looks a lot like a backbone, don’t you think? And I know a lot about bones and meat.”

Leonie paled. “You’re right, Raphael. I don’t know how I never saw it before. I’ve cleaned enough carcasses; I should have recognized it. That’s definitely a spine.”

Hilda shifted. It took her a few minutes, but finally she stood and retrieved Freikugel. She spun it in her hands and laid it next to Failnaught. “One of my brother’s friends made a fake one out of a deer’s ribcage. It was funny until they realized how similar it looked. It’s part of why he entrusted it to me. No one was really comfortable after that.”

Felix growled. “Get to the point, Riegan.”

“Right, well, after the fight in the Holy Tomb, Byleth and I had a little talk about it. You might have missed it,” he gestured to Sylvain and Felix, who hadn’t even been there, “but Edelgard’s general ordered their people to take the Crest Stones and the bones from the tombs. The tombs that, supposedly, housed the Goddess’ children. At first, I thought they came from something like the Immaculate One. What else would have such powerful bones? But after I inherited Failnaught, I did some measuring… The bones are all pretty human-sized.”

Ignatz snapped his fingers several times and then pointed at the Lance of Ruin. “And when that bandit leader transformed into a demonic beast, the lance became a part of him and the Crest Stone was on his forehead.” He didn’t notice the way Sylvain flinched and looked away, let alone how Felix put a hand on his arm. “And after we killed it, he was just a man again.”

Marianne handed Sylvain a cup of tea and Claude waited for him to start it before he continued. “That’s where our thoughts went, too.”

“But would the Goddess really make weapons out of the bones of her children?” Marianne clutched her hands to her lap. “But… But there was a… There was an eleventh hero. One they struck from the histories…”

Claude waved her off. “It’s okay, Marianne.”

“No. It’s- It’s important. The eleventh hero, Maurice, they say he turned into a black beast. And that he still haunts the Edmund territory. If we could find him…”

“Well, this is terrible and everything,” Hilda started, “But I don’t think we have the luxury of worrying about what the Relic Weapons are made of when Edelgard is taking over all of Fódlan.”

“Hilda’s right. I knew about this and still took…” Claude gestured to Failnaught. “We’re going to need everything we can to stop Edelgard, but that doesn’t mean we can fight with our eyes closed. We’re going to have to find out the truth of the Heroes’ Relics and probably lay them to rest once this is all over.” He stood up. “We have a chance, now that we’re all together. We can push back the Empire, live our lives in peace.”

“Claude-”

“Don’t worry Lorenz. I won’t make you betray your father. I have a plan.”

“Care to share?”

“Not yet, but soon. First, we need to fix this place up. Find what remains of the Knights of Seiros. Lady Rhea put Teach in charge of the church. They’ll follow her lead.”

Byleth stood at his side, not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth of his body. “We’ll heal Dimitri, reunite Faerghus and stop Edelgard. We cannot let the people of Fódlan suffer as we have. We’ve lost friends… Family… Some of the things we think made us who we are.” She glanced at the Sword of the Creator, the first thing to truly define her as more than a simple mercenary. “And we’ll lose more before the end, but we trained for this. To minimize loss and end conflict. Together, we’ll make things right.”

\---

“That was some speech, my friend,” Claude said as he came up behind Byleth in the Goddess Tower. It was cold, the night wind cutting through their clothes. 

Byleth moved away from the open area, cutting off her view of the stars. She stuck her hands in the rarely-used sleeves of her coat. “I dreamt of a war, just before we met.”

“In Remire village? All that time ago?” He laughed and touched her upper arm, but the laughter didn’t touch the tightness around his eyes. “I can’t remember if I dreamt last night.”

“Claude.”

He squeezed her arm and let his hand linger. “Habit.”

“My… hope… was that no one would have to go through that. There was a warrior in the dream. She lost her mind. Defeated a man and stabbed him long after he was dead, crying for the lost. When I defeated Kronya, was that me?”

Claude stood next to her, holding her arm, close enough that he had to look down to see into her face. It was dark and cold, but not enough to warrant the closeness or the way he bowed his head over her. “No,” he whispered. Stronger, with more conviction, “No, never. Even after what she did to your father, you tried to save her from Solon. It’s easy to forget, in what came after, but her death horrified you. That was the first time I felt like I could really read you, you know? You weren’t afraid of what was happening to you. It was what he did to her.”

In the silence that followed, Byleth lifted both hands until she held onto both of his forearms. She couldn’t keep up the eye contact and stared at his chest. Her grip tightened just before she spoke. “I still don’t understand everything I feel. But I trust you.”

Claude gasped like a fish plucked out of the safety of the water. His voice cracked like he was a student all over again, even if his feelings were so different from then. “Byleth-”

“Promise me. We’ll save them. Dimitri. The Blue Lions. The Black Eagles. Edelgard.”

“I promise. I’ll make up a new poison. A calming one, so we won’t have to lock anyone in a cell while they come to their senses. Put Marianne in charge of them. She couldn’t hate anyone if she tried. She’ll make sure everyone’s treated well.”

“Thank you.”

Without pulling out of her grip, Claude lifted his hand enough to tilt her chin up. He smiled at her with his entire heart. It was sad and aching at the edges. His eyes were wet as if he knew he was promising the impossible, but he would try with every inch of his being. 

It was so honest, Byleth’s eyes welled with unshed tears, too.

He did pull his arm out, then, but only to brush her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “None of that, friend. It may not be the right night, but you’ve got the Goddess in you, so she heard us making a promise with our whole hearts, right? That means it’ll come true.”

They shared a laugh. It didn’t matter that it was small, tired and wet. It was real and from the depths of their hearts. 

…

And for the first time since reading her father’s diary, Byleth knew, without a doubt, that she had a heart in there, somewhere. Some amorphous place inside her clenched, released and she wanted to cry in relief.

But there would be time for that later. When everyone was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know that Dimitri canonically gets his Relic Weapon from Rodrigue in Ailell, but he's canonically not in the GD route at this point, either, so IDK why you're making that face at me.


	7. Chapter 7

Ingrid arrived at Garreg Mach Monastery just one day ahead of Edelgard’s General Randolph. Von Bergliez, Byleth scribbled into her ledger of prisoners. Most of the soldiers had been sent home. Hilda, in a surprise to only those who didn’t know her, had been able to weed out anyone with enough information or status to keep around. The Knights of Seiros weren’t overly fond of keeping so many prisoners and even less so of simply letting the army go.

“You saw how the Archbishop handled the Western Church after the incident in the Holy Mausoleum,” Ingrid said, propping her chin on her palm. “Attacking the Church of Seiros is a capital offense.”

“That’s not a stance we can afford in total war,” Claude said. He looked at Seteth who uncrossed his arms and sighed.

“I don’t disagree. However, how Lady Rhea chooses to handle things when she returns…” He spread his hands out to the sides, palms up.

“We must convince her.” Byleth put both hands on the table. “Fódlan cannot rebuild if there is no one to do the work.”

Lorenz nodded, no longer bashful in agreeing with Claude. “The Gloucester forces will have to fight with the Empire, if provoked. We may not be the most pious territory, but I assure you, my people have no interest in fighting the Church if they had the choice.”

“The situation is rather extraordinary,” Seteth said. “I’m sure Lady Rhea will see that.”

Byleth did not look at Claude, didn’t need to in order to know that he shared her doubts. “We have to find her before we can worry about that. For now, we need to focus our next step. We still don’t have enough forces to be more than a nuisance to the Empire.”

“I’ve written to Judith and my retainer for reinforcements and supplies. They can’t exactly stage troops in Daphnel or Riegan territories, but I’m sure they’ll come up with something.”

Sylvain slouched in his chair. “What about Prince Dimitri? I talked to him this morning and he’s still shouting for Edelgard’s head. He’s a liability, to put it nicely.”

“Gilbert wrote to Duke Fraldarius. He’s sending Mercedes, and Annette, if they’re together, but it looks like it’s going to take a lot more than White Magic and calming teas. The war’s wounded his mind and some people never heal from that.” Claude frowned and his eyes went far away, remembering others he’d met with similar problems.

Sylvain shook his head. “If you ask Felix, this started before the war.”

“Regardless,” Claude said before the council got off track, “at worst, we’ll work around him, set Faerghus up with a regent and you can figure it out once the war’s over.” 

Despite his efforts, the meeting dragged on for another two hours. When he was alone with Byleth, he slumped dramatically across the table and groaned. “When I first planned to fight back, I didn’t think I would need to micromanage the Church of Seiros and the Kingdom. Don’t get me wrong, the additional forces will be invaluable, but this was sooner than I was expecting to have all of Fódlan on my shoulders.”

Byleth stood and rubbed his back. “Thank you, Claude. For everything.”

He looked up at her and smiled. Even if the tilt of his eyebrows was contemplative, even if there was old pain in his posture, the smile for her was real. He took her hand from his back and tugged. “Sit with me.”

She dragged a chair over to the head of the table and sat with it angled toward him. 

He turned his chair to match and grinned. “I should be thanking you. I couldn’t do this without you and it’s… This is the first step toward my goal. To seeing my dream become a reality.” Claude pulled off his gloves, one finger at a time, then tossed them onto the table. He took her hand and held it, just on the arm of his chair. “You already know I wasn’t born in Fódlan.”

“Almyra.”

“I- wait, what?”

“You’re from Almyra. Your father is,” Byleth said, as if it were obvious. To her, it was.

His fingers closed around hers and he leaned toward her. “Why would you- How do you…?”

With her free hand, Byleth gestures to all of him, from head to toe. “And you asked to be a wyvern rider.”

“You knew? The entire time?”

She curled her fingers with his as she considered. “More or less. We had a mercenary from Almyra in the corps.” She tugged an imaginary braid at her temple.

Laughter took over Claude. He laughed and rocked in his chair and squeezed his hand around hers. “Of course you knew. And didn’t even care! Didn’t even find it noteworthy, I bet.”

She shook her head, a smile on her lips, unable to keep a straight face with his joy. “Why would I?”

“I don’t even know what to say to- No, there’s no reason. And this is exactly why- Let me start over.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I grew up in Almyra. They think people from Fódlan are cowards. I was tormented relentlessly as a child. Meanwhile, the person from Fódlan I knew best was my mother. She left everything she knew behind for love. She’s the bravest person I knew, not that saying that helped anything.”

He shifted in his seat, but didn’t release her hand. “It only got worse as I got older. When they realized that my mother and I weren’t going anywhere. Realized my father wouldn’t marry someone ‘respectable’ and have a ‘real’ heir. I was beaten… Poisoned…”

Byleth pulled his arm until he was leaned half out of his chair and his arm was pressed against her chest. “You didn’t come here to run.” Her voice was soft, but dripped with certainty.

Claude’s response was equally low. “No, I didn’t. I came here for perspective, so I could figure out what I needed to do to stop the discrimination. Imagine my disappointment when I realized that people here view Almyrans as barely more than beasts.” He laughed without humor.

“What I want, my ambition, my dream is to bust open Fódlan’s throat and make the world a place where people from all over can live together and interact and it doesn’t matter where their blood comes from or what language they learned in the cradle. For years, it felt like little more than a pipe dream, but now, with you at my side, I feel like it can really happy. This is… A lot, all at once, but we can do this. Together. And now… It feels like, if I saw that world without you… It wouldn’t be enough.”

Claude laughed and used the heel of his hand to wipe the wetness off his cheeks. “I know I’m being ridiculous-”

“It’s not ridiculous.”

“-but it doesn’t feel that way.”

Byleth brought his hand up and rubbed his knuckles against her cheek. “I want to see that world, too. With you.”

Trust and affection poured off Claude in waves and filled in all of the cuts and gouges from the war that marred her soul. He stood, leaned over her so that he didn’t pull away. “We made a promise and we’ll see it through.”

“Yes.”

“I have to go. I’m already very late for my next meeting.” He touched their foreheads together. “Save a cup of tea for me tonight. I’ll need it.”

In answer, she tilted her head just enough to press their lips together. Just the slightest brush: two pairs of chapped lips meeting for the first time, though it felt so casual, so natural, so much like  _ coming home _ that neither of them reacted beyond a happy crinkle at the corners of their eyes and the smallest squeeze of their fingers.

“Don’t be late, or I’ll have Mirza get you.”

“He would!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright they kissed. Fic's over folks, pack it in.
> 
> JK, we got time. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

Claude died in Ailell. Ashe landed two arrows: one in Mirza’s wing and one in Claude’s throat. Ashe dropped his bow and bit his hand through his glove. The howl didn’t fully escape his chest before Byleth pulled on the power in her chest and wound back time. She fell off the back of Sylvain’s horse and landed hard on her left arm. 

“Claude! Ashe!” She shouted, waiting for the spinning in her head to stop. The heat made the disoriented worse beyond measure.

“I know. I’m try-” He was cut off by a gurgle as an arrow struck his chest and a second one pierced through his right arm.

Byleth found herself pillion behind Sylvain again. Her stomach heaved and she pressed her forehead into Sylvain’s shoulder.

“Professor, are you-”

“Get to Claude. Now.”

He charged forward, but the mare’s hooves stuck in the ground. The animal screamed as the fiery ground seared her through her hooves. They weren’t even close when the arrow pierced Mirza’s wing.

Clenching her jaw, Byleth rolled time back again. When she told Sylvain to charge, she threw an ice spell at the ground ahead. It melted instantly in a flash of steam that scalded her and the horse, but she ignored it because the only other time she’d gone back more than twice, she’d failed to save her father. What attempt was she on? Seven? They were too similar, too painful to differentiate. She didn’t waste time looking up before throwing a fireball up. She fell in time with the ashes from the arrows and emptied her stomach once she hit the burning ground.

The battle raged around her. She heard Judith say something, but couldn’t make out the words over the blood pounding in her ears and her own loud pants. She wiped her face and her hand came away wet with blood. Blood? Spots danced in front of her eyes and she wiped her nose with her other hand. Blood. Right. It was just a bloody nose. A bloody nose was fine. Had it happened when she tried to bring her father back? She couldn’t remember. The things that happened in worlds that disappeared in time, those she remembered with crystal clarity. She still woke from nightmares of the Sword of the Creator piercing Claude’s heart.

But had she gotten a nosebleed?

Her thoughts shattered when White Magic washed over her. Sylvain put his hands on her shoulders as he clumsily cast a healing spell on her. “Professor? Are you okay?”

Byleth nodded, her throat too scorched and acidic to speak. She used his armor as leverage to climb to her feet. Judith she saw first, the green and yellow heraldry obvious against the red and grey canyon. Next to her was a man in teal and blue on a horse that she vaguely recognized, but could barely see past her swirling vision. 

Claude hopped off Mirza in mid-air and landed in front of her. He put both hands on her shoulders and stared into her face. “Are you okay? What was that? That spell came out of nowhere and then you-” He took a deep breath and composed himself. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We need to talk later. Duke Fraldarius is here; I need to-”

“Go. I’ll be fine.” Their hands touched for as long as possible as Claude walked away.

White Magic splashed over her back again and Sylvain moved next to her, ready to catch her if she collapsed. “Are you really okay, or just putting on a brave face for him? Falling over and throwing up after two spells isn’t good.”

She took Sylvain’s waterskin off his belt and took a long drink. “I’ll be fine. I was doing other magic, too.”

He looked doubtful and didn’t leave her side, but said no more.

Along with Mercedes and Annette, Rodrigue had brought a battalion of soldiers, some supplies and himself. He would stay in Garreg Mach for only a scant few days, but insisted that family was the only cure for mind wounds and he was all Dimitri had left. Byleth didn’t have the energy to comprehend more than that. Ashe stood with his head bowed and hands tied behind his back, one of Claude’s arrows in his shoulder, waiting for a healer to safely remove.

She saw Mirza flying slow circles overhead. She whistled. “Sylvain, help me up.”

“Are you sure you should be flying right now?”

“He’ll get me out of the heat,” Byleth said. When he still looked doubtful, she insisted, “I’ll be fine.” 

“Be careful, Professor. We need you.”

“I know.”

\---

Byleth woke up warm, but exhausted and aching from her hair to her toenails. It felt like waking up after a week of illness. She tried to sit up, but Claude’s arm was holding her down. Had they gone to bed together? She didn’t think so. The last thing she remembered was Mirza flying. She touched her face, but there was no trace of her bloody nose and her mouth tasted… not great, but not like blood or acid, so she must have eaten or drank something. She rubbed her eyes, but try as she might, no more memories surfaced. Would her regular memory get progressively worse the more she rewound time? Sothis would have warned right if that were the case, wouldn’t she?

Claude’s face held a clue, in a manner of speaking. It was smooth, unbothered by nightmares or lingering stress, so it was unlikely she’d arrived at the monastery unconscious and in need of handling. His nose twitched and she realized she’d never seen him actually sleep before. Sure, she’d caught him napping in the library or sprawled over a table in their classroom, but that was different. He was like a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap and defend himself… Or to eavesdrop on anyone careless.

But not this time. Not laid next to her in her bed. She looked around the room.  _ His _ bed, which was probably bigger than hers, since she’d been given one of the commoner rooms, but it didn’t matter. She freed her hand and touched his face, starting with his cheek. She brushed the pads of her fingers over his cheekbones, down his jaw, across the bridge of his nose… His eyes blinked open just as she was tracing his eyebrows.

“Morning.”

Byleth pressed their foreheads together, her cheeks hurting with how wide she smiled at him. “Good morning.”

“You look a lot better now.”

The serious tensing around his eyes dragged the truth, the real truth out of her. She put two fingers on his lower lip. “You died. A lot.”

Different expressions tore his face in two directions. His logical brain warred with his unshakeable trust in her. “Is this related to your goddess power?”

Byleth nodded, her forehead rubbing against his. “I can turn back time. Just a little. I tried to save…” She couldn’t say it. “But every time I went back it got worse. That mage, Thales, he knew what I was doing somehow. Thwarted me. It was horrible.”

He hugged her when she closed her eyes against the memories.

“He wasn’t in Ailell, was he?”

“No, but I never should have had you be the one to try to fight Ashe. Nothing I did could save you.”

“That fireball was you. I thought someone had-” Claude put a hand over his mouth, looking at her with new eyes. His mouth moved as he thought through the implications.

Byleth yawned and settled herself more comfortably. Alone as they were, he would take his time. She’d almost fallen back asleep when he kissed her brow.

“Still awake?”

“Mmhmm.”

“How far back can you go?”

She opened her eyes again. He was propped up on one elbow, looking down at her. His hair was ruffled from running his hand through it. She yawned. “A few minutes at most. And if I do it too many times… You saw me yesterday.”

He nodded. “Not so much a tactical asset as a last minute- Wait. You said I died. You watched me die. Repeatedly.”

“Yes.”

He looked stricken, mouth hanging open in a half-gasp as if she’d hit him in the solar plexus. He cradled her face in both of his hands. “I’m so sorry. That had to have been- Once. I saw- Once, with Solon, I thought- And even then I didn’t really-”

“It’s okay. The others have died many more times.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Tears welled in his eyes, but before they could fall, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight. He pressed her face into his shoulder and put his in her hair. “I don’t know how you can- I swear, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you from having to see another one of our friends die. I’ll make it better for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I will not post daily... but it is not this day


	9. Chapter 9

“How is he?”

“Professor, please sit still. Your body is still weak from Ailell.” Marianne’s newfound confidence was the greatest gift of the war, so Byleth sat still as a stone under her ministrations.

Claude finished sweeping into the dining hall and sat opposite her and Marianne before he replied. “No difference. Fraldarius is leaving for Faerghus in the morning. He wrote up some proclamations he sealed with Dimitri’s ring and he’s going to try and wrangle as much of the remaining Faerghus nobility as he can. Ashe was never officially made Lonato’s noble successor, but the loyalists aren’t going to be too picky about it.”

“It’s a good start,” Ingrid said, “but without Fhirdiad or Arianrhod there’s no hope of reuniting the kingdom.”

“I know.” Claude spread his arms wide and shrugged. “But we can’t afford to fight this war on two fronts. Even if we take back the Faerghus Dukedom, we’d still have to go through Fort Merceus and Enbarr. The Silver Maiden and Old General may be well-known fortresses, but Enbarr was built to resist Nemesis and the Ten Elites. I’m sorry, but it’s just not viable.”

“I wasn’t trying to accuse you. Honestly, I thought I’d be more frustrated that we’re not immediately going North, but seeing Dimitri the way that he is… Well, what’s a kingdom without a king?” Ingrid picked at her food, spearing a piece of potato with a single tine on her fork. 

“He’ll recover in time,” Marianne said. She lifted her hands and her White Magic from Byleth before sitting heavily on the bench. She pulled a cup of water forward and drank all of it at once. “After speaking with Felix and the others, Mercedes and I believe that his survivor’s guilt over the Tragedy of Duscur is the key to his condition. We’re working to redirect his feelings from revenge to restoration, but it’s a slow process.”

“And you’re more than busy with tending to the troops. We understand. Thank you for your hard work, Marianne. We couldn’t do this without you.” Claude gave her a genuine smile and something squeezed in Byleth’s chest.

“It’s the least I can do, really. I’m just glad it doesn’t seem to be connected to his Crest or the Hero’s Relic.”

Ingrid frowned and stirred the rest of her potatoes in the gravy on her plate. “Sylvain filled me in about your theory. I don’t like it, but Lùin was at the heart of House Galatea’s split with Daphnel. I spoke to Judith about it. Apparently, the version of the story she heard said that both brothers acted wildly out of character until the separation.”

“Have you had a chance to ask Seteth about it?”

Byleth sighed under Claude’s gaze. “He said that, wherever the Relic Weapons came from, it was a long time ago, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Crests affected the bearers’ personalities.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“Probably.”

“Despite having a major Crest of Cichol himself, he seems really against the whole concept of Crests defining the nobility,” Ingrid said.

“That makes pretty much all of us,” Claude said. He sighed and leaned back. “That’s what makes this war so… sad. Edelgard’s not wrong about a lot of things. It’s just the way she’s doing it that’s untenable. A big part of post-war restoration is going to be reforming the political systems of Fódlan, no matter who wins.”

“What’s really going to happen, Claude? After your and the professor’s army takes Enbarr, what are you going to do? Just give Western Faerghus back and expand the Alliance through old Empire territory?”

“No need to raise your hackles, Ingrid. Edelgard claims that the Church of Seiros intentionally split Fódlan into the three nations, but for the most part the borders follow geographic lines. It’ll be easier on the public to leave the three separate with strong treaties and trade deals holding the continent together. Maybe the future leaders will unify them, but I think the rest of our lives will be spent on recovering from the war.”

Byleth wanted to ask who would rule the Adrestian Empire, but had an uncomfortable feeling it was her. Any future with Claude would involve being a ruler of some kind; his ambition demanded no less, but despite her personal doubts, the people viewed her as some kind of religious figure. Rhea’s entrusting of the ‘holy duties’ to her had rung a bell that couldn’t be silenced. The Empire went to war with the Church of Seiros. Putting a religious figure at the head after its defeat would be an insult, at best. Surely Claude would have considered it.

Aloud, she said only, “Isn’t Aegir territory near the Great Bridge?”

“It’s quite a ways South.”

Marianne refilled her cup from a pitcher and sipped her water. “After the Holy Tomb, before he left, Ferdinand said his family’s lands had all been taken away.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with him.”

“H-he just mentioned it in passing.”

Claude rubbed his chin. “That’s not what I’ve been hearing out of the old Hrym territory.” He stood. “I think I’m going to have a talk with Lysithea and write a few letters.”

Once he was gone, Byleth’s eyes fell onto his untouched plate. She sighed. “I’ll have to make sure he eats later.”

“You should sit on him. I’ve done that to Felix and Sylvain before.”

\---

Not for the first time, Claude was as true as his word. No one died on the Great Bridge. Not only did no one die, but Byleth was able to drag Ferdinand back to their camp by the ear. He gratifying yelped and whined, as if he were a recalcitrant teenager being dragged back to his dorm rather than a general in Edelgard’s army. “Please accept my humblest apologies, Professor.”

Byleth growled out a phrase she’d heard Leonie say to Lorenz repeatedly. “You wouldn’t know humility if it danced naked in front of you.”

“I was doing my duty to my people. My father was corrupt. It was my duty as a noble to make reparations.” He whined louder when she twisted his ear. “I’m unspeakably grateful to see you alive and well, Professor.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to think about your duty as a noble as the war progresses.”

“I could be a valuable asset, given my extensive knowledge of the Empire.”

“Hilda’s the one you have to convince, not me.”

His face fell. She hadn’t imagined that he could be counted among Hilda’s targets, but she was nothing if not industrious in her slacking. Byleth gave him a hug before passing him over to be restrained and imprisoned. As they took him away, he smiled. Not a wane or weak one, a real, thankful-to-be-alive smile.

That was two of her former students recovered from the war. Ashe was on semi-permanent ‘talk to Dimitri’ duty. Semi-permanent because he was the best cook… Wait, there was something, something pulling at her mind. There had been yelling on the bridge as she dragged Ferdinand away. They hadn’t been shouts of pain or fear, so she hadn’t paid attention. She’d been too wrapped up in her pleasure at having Ferdinand back. Byleth pushed thoughts of Ashe aside and went back the way she’d come. The closer she got to the bridge, the faster she moved until she was running at full speed. 

She found the former Blue Lions standing in a tight ball of arms and tears. Minus Felix, who stood behind Sylvain scoffing. In the center, head and shoulders above the rest, was a much scarred Dedue. They parted as she approached and silently she pulled Dedue into her arms and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Welcome home.”

His arms shook as they encircled her. He bowed his head and a sob tore out of his chest like a summer storm. “Professor. I failed His Highness.”

“You didn’t. He’s with us. He’s getting better.”

“Take me to him.”

Byleth took hold of his arm and pulled him back to their camp. “Only after you eat and rest.”

“If I must.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More children are adopted.
> 
> More extremely minor background pairings hinted at.
> 
> This fic was supposed to be focused on other things, but here we are.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you guys, but despite posting at like 8am EDT, I didn't see this fic in the 3H category until like 4PM, so if you missed chapter 9, roll on back.

For all his scheming, for all that he had, apparently, everyone fooled, Claude had the subtlety of a slap in the face. He returned from ‘visiting with the Alliance lords’ with a great white wyvern and no Mirza in sight. White wyverns were bad luck in Fódlan; they were abandoned by their mothers for being different and wyverns were notoriously difficult to hand-raise. A white wyvern that did make it to adulthood was skittish and unsuitable for battle, assuming it ever grew large enough to ride in the first place. And yet Claude swooped in on a glorious white queen, as if it were a great honor.

“Why are you giving me that look, Teach?” Claude definitely knew he was in not-trouble when he called her that. “Don’t you like Shahin?”

Byleth put her hands on her hips and ignored the way Shahin leaned in to sniff her before huffing affectionately. “I thought you were a master tactician.”

“You know I hate that title, but why now? Do you think Lorenz is going to tell Count Gloucester about my plan? Because I have more faith in him than that.” He grinned and handed her a parcel of Almyran Pine Needle tea. “I got you a present.”

She threw it at his face and laughed when he struggled to catch it. “You cajoled me for an hour not to mention you were from Almyra and you come back like this?”

He laughed and kissed her cheek. “People see what they want to see. Besides, I didn’t plan for this. Mirza’s mate had a clutch and he had to stay and tend her. My parents just gave me a little bit of a late coming of age present.” He flexed. “I’m a proper barbarossa now!”

“You’re properly ridiculous is what you are.” She pulled him in by his cheek and kissed his lips, which did nothing to convince him of any wrongdoing.

He pressed their foreheads together and smiled like they weren’t in the middle of a war. “What did I miss?”

“Dimitri’s improving, now that Dedue is back. Judith is exchanging completely professional letters with ‘Nardel’ that make her look far too pleased with herself. According to Hilda, Ferdinand is the least observant general to ever make it through the Officers’ Academy because he knows nothing of Edelgard’s plans or defense strategies aside from meeting us at Gronder field which, frankly, a child could predict.”

“I didn’t expect to get much out of him. He has too much optimism for how much he intentionally turns a blind eye to the less-savory parts of the Empire.” Claude put his arm around Byleth’s waist and walked them back into the monastery proper. “His true value is in morale for our troops and what he observed in terms of interpersonal interactions among Edelgard’s staff, which is more difficult to extract. Hilda knows what she’s doing.”

“Did you at least accomplish your objective on your little trip through the throat?”

“Don’t say it like that. There’s an innuendo in there and I’m going to spend too long thinking of how to word it and then it won’t even be funny.”

“Our people are anxious about Gronder Field. Ignatz is doing maths on how much of the wheat crop will be destroyed.”

“Trust a merchant’s son. It’s good to think about, though. The last thing we want is to end the war and have the whole Empire fall apart because of a famine.” He scratched his cheek as they walked. “I’ll write to Rodrigue and get some numbers from the Kingdom. They’re never particularly flush with supplies; five years of war has probably burned through their silos. We can probably make a good treaty with Brigid for supplies in exchange for being released from their vassalage. If we can capture Petra at Gronder, that’ll be ideal.”

“If she’s there.”

“This war is about nothing if not dramatic irony. Everyone who went to the Academy with us will be there.”

Together, they sat through an afternoon of strategy meetings and Lorenz waxing poetic about the trials and tribulations of hiding things from his father. Long after dusk, they ate a late dinner in her father’s old office. The desk was strewn with letters and notes that they put some effort into not dripping gravy on, but most bore the tell-tale rings of mugs carelessly placed during planning.

“We’ll want to push on to Fort Merceus as soon as possible after Gronder Field. I was hoping to pull more troops from the Alliance lords once we’re unified again, but roughing out the numbers says we’ll barely break even after accounting for what we need to hold the Bridge.” With both elbows on the desk, Claude rested his forehead in both hands. “That’s the real reason I took a detour back home. I think we’re going to need ‘Nardel’ in his official role to take the Old General.”

“What are the logistics on that? Have them sail in to Derdriu?”

“That was the hope, but the navy’s otherwise engaged.”

“With whom?”

Claude laughed. “There’s a lot of world outside of Fódlan. I’ll show you when the war is over. Anyway, I’ll just convince Holst to let them through the throat. He’s practically on a first name basis with Nardel. It should be fine.”

“And if it’s not, you have such a large, lovely case of poisons?”

“It won’t come to that, but my contingencies do have contingencies.”

Byleth pushed the papers aside until she revealed a map of the Leicester territory. “Who’s going to lead the Alliance after the war?”

“That’s getting a little ahead of ourselves, isn’t it?” There was a cloud of vulnerability in Claude’s eyes. For all of his bravado, some part of him doubted.

“We have big dreams to fulfill, Claude. I want to know what’s coming.” I believe in you, she didn’t say.

“I wish it could be Lorenz. That’d tie everything up in a neat, storybook bow, but Holst is a better candidate. Even if he wasn’t, the people aren’t going to forget who Gloucester sided with when the war started. It won’t matter that that was the best way to avoid unnecessary casualties.”

“And the Empire?”

He shrugged and pushed away from the table. He stood and stretched his back, groaning. “Since Edelgard ousted the old ministers, it really depends on our old classmates. Caspar wasn’t trained to lead and Linhardt never cared, but between the lot of them, there should be enough to run a council.”

“Will they want to?” Byleth asked. She stood and picked up her things to retire for the evening. 

“If we let them secularize it and do away with the noble class… If we can keep Edelgard alive… There’re a lot of ifs. We’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it. I want to save Rhea as much as anybody else, but I’m not looking forward to accounting for the Church’s interference. A unified Fódlan would be better than punitive restructuring, if it comes to it.” He put his arm around her waist and leaned over until the crowns of their heads touched. “But I think it’s time for us to sleep. Maybe you can pick Seteth’s brain about it later. If my theory’s correct, he’s seen enough governments come and go to have a good opinion.”

“He’s more open to talking if we let him pretend he’s talking in hypotheticals.” Byleth smiled. For all of Seteth’s secrets, for his deep connection to Rhea, he felt comfortable.

“Good to know, but I’ll let you handle him. He might not have Rhea’s obsession with you, but you’re definitely more than just a colleague to him.” He nuzzled her hair. “We need to just stop talking or we’ll be at this all night.”

“Again.”

“Again,” he agreed. “Let’s go, love. At least one crisis is going to interrupt us on our way to bed as it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello, welcome to "I love how in love they are."


	11. Chapter 11

The battle at Gronder Field hurt like the nightmares of erased deaths. Claude yelled like his heart was torn from his chest when Edelgard lit the hill on fire, Bernadetta still manning the ballista. Guilt cracked his voice as he shouted her name, but the swirling emotions didn’t freeze him. He ordered Lorenz forward, watching only until the blue haze of magic surrounded him. His horse cantered out of the smoke with Bernadetta on its back and no more thought could be spent on it. Lorenz would could out the other side, or he wouldn’t.

Petra seemed absent from the battle until Byleth noticed a magenta flash striking out from bushes and felling their cavalry two at a time. She could only watch, heart in her throat, as Shamir yelled a plea in Petra’s own language. The surprise that grabbed her was enough for Annette to immobilize her with magic. That was two more. Byleth couldn’t find Linhardt, Dorothea or Caspar in crush of battle. 

Being unable to hear Caspar reassured her, somewhat. This was his family’s territory; with any luck, that meant he was elsewhere, working on strategy, unlikely, or organizing the movement and evacuation of the civilians, she could only hope. Linhardt never wanted to fight and his White Magic far outstripped his Black Magic. Would Edelgard respect that or at least concede to placing him where his skills were best used? Her head hurt. She and Claude had spent hours on hours speculating who of their former classmates would be deployed and where.

The Empire had so many more commanders than those few she knew from the Academy, people about whom all they knew was a name on a roster or a scribbled line from a scouting report. It was foolish to focus so heavily on the people they knew personally, but with her former students there was the smallest sliver of hope they might be convinced to change sides.

She wielded the Sword of the Creator, felt the phantom pulse of whatever creature gave its life for its forging and wove through the lines of battle. Some part of her, even if it was just her imagination, could feel the other Heroes’ Relics on the field. Lysithea carried Thyrsus, Catherine bore Thunderbrand and Felix wore Aegis on his back. She didn’t think they could last much longer without the truth, if only she could convince Seteth to talk. He knew something. His eyes grew distant and cloudy when the subject was brought up, but between his desire to protect Flayn and his loyalty to Rhea, he remained stubbornly silent.

“Apologies, Professor, but I cannot allow you to hinder Her Majesty any further.”

Byleth nearly cried in relief at Hubert’s voice. She’d spoken to him a great at the Academy. Initially as wary of him as he was of her, she’d pursued and studied him until she had his measure. His type wasn’t uncommon among mercenary groups. The depth of loyalty and devotion he had for Edelgard mimicked the bond between a captain and their right hand. The unquestioning loyalty earned in blood. He wasn’t evil, not even close and certainly not as maudlin as his personality would suggest.

She said nothing, simply raised her sword. His magic burned against her skin, feeling acidic and static in a way proper Black or White magic never did. She hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t expected Edelgard to put her most valuable ally in such a dangerous position. Hubert knew too much, did too much to lose. Understanding came as his unnatural magic crackled in the air between them. He’d been able to teleport out of the Holy Tomb. If the situation became dire, he would flee. She gritted her teeth and aimed her whipping sword blade at his legs.

He dodged into the curved path and fell to the ground as the bonespurs bit his flesh through his robes. Hubert shouted as he pulled on his magic. “Your Majesty!”

Instinct took Byleth. She pulled on time itself, on the magic Sothis had called the Divine Pulse. But she didn’t turn back the clock. Instead she pulled on him, on the magic in his chest. Pulled and pulled until it felt like he was tethered to her chest. 

When his spell failed, he scrabbled at the ground, his gloves black and red with blood and rich soil. He made it to his feet, but couldn’t free his leg from the Sword of the Creator. 

“Hubert! Retreat!”

He didn’t hesitate at Edelgard’s voice, didn’t lose concentration, but with his magic fettered, he couldn’t escape Byleth’s fist. He staggered another step before falling to the ground. Byleth signalled for her men to restrain him and pulled back her sword only once his arms were bound in rope. 

She spent the rest of the fight with half her mind holding onto the divine magic, the tether between Hubert and herself so that he couldn’t run. Edelgard wouldn’t surrender at his loss, wouldn’t give up or waste her army to retrieve him, but it was a blow. One to her heart.

Edelgard retreated under Claude’s arrows. 

Claude held Byleth’s hand, squeezed her fingers and then they separated to deal with the aftermath of the battle. She had Annette push Hubert into unconsciousness with magic and finally released her hold on him. Her knees buckled, but she didn’t fall. There was more work to do. Lorenz had a nasty burn on his arm and lost several inches of hair. Sylvain lost his horse to Petra’s sword. Felix had a jagged gash on his face, lightning magic of some kind, but he paid it no heed as he scolded Ingrid over her sword technique. Ignatz and Hilda each had a shoulder under Raphael as they helped him through the camp.

“Professor!”

Byleth turned just as Leonie slid to a halt next to her. “Are you alright?”

“No. We need to talk.” She grabbed her wrist and dragged her through the camp until they were just inside the scout lines, but away from everyone else. Leonie’s hands were balled into fists and she couldn’t stand still. “First there was Ashe. Alright, I get it, he was just trying to do his duty to the man that saved him and siblings. Then Ferdinand. Less okay, but he and Edelgard never got along, so I can see it, but Hubert? This? This is too far. He has the same twisted magic as that Kronya person that killed Captain Jeralt! How can you just-” She interrupted herself with a wordless yell.

“I can’t just stand by and let you- Argh! What’s next? We’re going to storm Enbarr and you’ll just let Edelgard go? After everything she’s done?”

“Do you think we did the right thing when we went into the Sealed Forest to confront Kronya?”

“Yes! Obviously! We needed to take revenge for Captain Jeralt!”

Byleth frowned with her entire face. Her eyebrows tilted down, her jaw tightened. Her face ached with emotion. Was that how everyone felt all of the time? “If I hadn’t come back from that black place, all of you would have died. Count Gloucester wouldn’t have listened to Judith or Holst or whomever was in charge when Edelgard declared war on the Church of Seiros and the Alliance would be worse off than the Kingdom. You’d be dead, your village would be in Edelgard’s hands. That’s what should have happened.”

“But it didn’t! You knew you were powerful-”

“I didn’t. It was foolish. It was a miracle I survived and I came back to find shadows in everyone’s eyes. I heard the nightmares. I saw the way everyone grieved when they lost sight of me. We may have survived, but we lost something fundamental that day.”

“But Claude-”

“Spun the circumstances to give me what I wanted. Rhea, too, wanted to give me what I wanted and that is the only reason she let him convince her. Revenge won’t end this war. Revenge won’t repay your village. Killing Edelgard will make her a martyr and inspire generations to fight the Church of Seiros. Have you asked the Goddess what she wants? Because told me she wants all of the children to live.”

As if slapped, Leonie fell back a step. “But I thought- There wasn’t time for a-”

“She didn’t tell me in the Holy Tomb. It was earlier, before I knew she was the Goddess. Ask her, Leonie. Ask her if she wants the war to end with more blood soaked in the ground.” Byleth lowered her gaze, stared at the churned up grass, saw the blood on her boots and the edge of her coat.

“But Lady Rhea-”

“Is not the Goddess. When we rescue her, she can make her case for killing Edelgard, but it will be my blood sinking into the ground before I let her die for being manipulated.”

“She’s the emperor! Who could possibly manipulate her?”

Anger threatened to choke her, so she waited to respond. She understood Leonie’s grief, but she wouldn’t let her prop her father up as an excuse for bloodthirst. Byleth took several deep breaths through her nose. “If you think the nobility is untouchable, ask Bernadetta how she ended up at the Officers’ Academy.”

She turned on her heel, discussion over. They would not speak on it again. She loved Leonie, but she wouldn’t change her mind and wouldn’t allow herself to be bullied about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can she do that?
> 
> She can now.
> 
> Also, I am so hype for upcoming chapters. You're gonna love 'em.


	12. Chapter 12

Byleth worried about Hubert. Between his pallor and demeanor, she struggled to discern whether or not he was truly fine. Having his magic fettered by Silence was unavoidable, but necessary. He was kept in an austere monk’s cell in Garreg Mach and fed the same meals as everyone else. Hilda spent an hour interrogating him before giving it up as a loss. Her normal techniques had no effect on him and she just became progressively more frustrated.

When she finally had the opportunity, Byleth brought a chair into Hubert’s room and simply sat with him in silence.

“Surely you know by now, Professor, that nothing will make me turn on Her Majesty.”

Byleth folded her hands in her lap and tilted her head as she studied his expression. The bags under his eyes were deep, but there was a joyful light in his eyes. Remaining loyal fulfilled him. She could understand that. “I don’t want you to.”

He laughed, cold and without humor. “Do not waste your time with such games. I am well-versed in interrogation and coercion. I am Her Majesty’s knife in the dark. There is nothing you can do to me that I have not done to her enemies. My only regret is that I did not neutralize you when I had the chance.”

“I read her manifesto. The Church of Seiros has been ruling Fódlan in the name of the Goddess, forcing the nobility system on the people.” She raised her hand, palm facing him. “I won’t try to change your mind. I want you to explain to me how that is the case.”

Hubert said nothing. His mouth curled up at the sides: he believed he could see through her game.

“Do you know why my father left the Knights of Seiros twenty-six years ago?”

He put his chin in his hand. “Now that is an interesting question. When he returned with you, I asked that very question myself. By all accounts, he worshiped Rhea. His wife, even had some connection to her. Then came the fire and he was gone. I could only assume it was grief over the death of that woman.”

“That woman was my mother. According to Rhea, she gave her life giving birth to me, but my father always doubted that. Even as a newborn I never cried, laughed or even smiled. In secret, he took me to a doctor, who revealed to him that I had no heartbeat. To this day, I still don’t. As a baby she did something to me and then when I met her… You saw her obsession with me.”

“Making you a professor, entrusting you with the Sword of the Creator… Yes, she made quite the spectacle of herself. And at the Holy Tomb, she said that she had waited so long for that day… Are you trying to convince me you oppose her while leading the Church of Seiros in her stead?”

“I’m trying to convince you to tell me what you know about the Church of Seiros and its corruption.”

“So that you can launch a campaign of counter intelligence? I think not.”

Byleth drew the Sword of the Creator.

“A physical threat? How mundane.”

She dropped it in his lap. “Why is a relic of the Church of Seiros made of bone?”

He met her eyes and gingerly touched the sword. He ran his fingers along the strange blade. “The Heroes’ Relics were made by mankind and stolen by Seiros after she killed Nemesis and the Ten Elites. Such is the truth passed down from Emperor to Emperor. There is no Hresvelg Relic because they were the original traitors to humanity who worked with Seiros. Such can be said of every family with a Saint’s Crest.”

“Seiros took them to keep them from being used against the Church… But why give them back? Rewards for good behavior? To buy their loyalty?” Byleth paced across the small room.

“We can only speculate.” Hubert held the sword out to her. “Tell me, Professor, do you know of the Immaculate One?”

She took the sword and nodded.

“That is Rhea’s true form. She is a monster, not a human like you or I.”

“Thank you, Hubert. You’ve given me much to think about.” She sheathed the sword, then reflexively wiped her hand off on her trousers. “I do not think Edelgard is wrong in her beliefs; only in her execution. I cannot let her tear apart Fódlan, even for its own good. If you beat a child for doing something dangerous, it fears you, not the true danger.”

Hubert had nothing to say to that.

“I will do everything in my power to spare her life.”

“Her Majesty will not kneel.”

“I don’t want her to kneel. I want her to sleep without nightmares. I know you care for her. I trust you to have some means of convincing her not to throw her life away when we take Enbarr.”

\---

Claude’s room smelled of ink, paper and Almyran tea. He and Byleth sat on the edge of his bed, using chairs as makeshift desks. She leaned her weight against him and read Mercedes’ report on Dimitri’s condition. He appeared to have returned to his state from five years before, but as Felix was quick to remind everyone, he’d only been wearing a facade of normalcy. In summary, he would probably be able to rule properly in a few years, but when they retook Fhirdiad, Rodrigue would be significantly more than a simple advisor.

Claude had a letter in his hand and was marking a map with notes from it. A glance told Byleth it was written in Almyran. She yawned and rested her head on his shoulder, watching him work. He turned his head to rub his cheek on her hair. “Nader needs to teach his commanders how to spell. I can barely make sense of this.”

“Are they all safely through the Throat?”

“Yeah, I got Holst to sit down with Nader off the battlefield and wouldn’t you know it, they have a lot in common. I got a note from his wife that he’ll never forgive me for making them friends. And that I’m responsible if anyone breaks Goneril antiques.” He grinned, pressing the expression into her hair.

“Did you tell Judith about ‘Nardel,’ yet?”

“Since my ear is still attached to my head, you can assume not. But she wasn’t as curious when I spoke to her this afternoon, so maybe they worked something out on their own and are just trying to make me sweat it out.”

“They would.”

“Mmhmm. Did you get anything out of Hubert?”

“More hearsay. Seiros did, indeed, help found the Empire, but the Heroes’ Relics weren’t gifts from the Goddess. Supposedly, they were made by mankind and appropriated by Seiros after the war.”

“That would explain it, if they are made from the bones of divine creatures.” He yawned and rolled up the map, tossing the letter on the floor. “Is that all?”

“He thinks Rhea is the Immaculate One.”

“Rhea herself? I hadn’t considered that. If that’s what Edelgard believes, this goes a long way to explaining her grudge against the Empire.” He fell backward, pulling Byleth with him. He threw his heavy, golden duvet over them, not bothering to lay properly or undress. They’d do it later, or they wouldn’t. It was far better than how they slept in the field.

“I’m not convinced the Church of Seiros intentionally split up Fódlan.”

“Me neither. A single ruler would be easier to manipulate than three. The Officers’ Academy feels more and more like an attempt at unification, which goes against that narrative.” 

Claude sat up in a rush. “Wait, wait, wait. If Seiros founded the Empire and Nemesis and the Ten Elites made the Heroes’ Relics… The Crests of Seiros and the saints are all from traditional Empire territory and named after, well, the saints, but the Crests of the Ten Elites are named after the generals who bore the Crests. What if the saints are divine beasts like the Immaculate One and they can bestow their Crests willingly, like for Hresvelg, Hevring et al, and then Nemesis and the Ten Elites somehow gave themselves the Crests from unwilling divine beasts?”

“Lysithea was forcibly given her second Crest,” Byleth murmured. “So that follows.”

“Maybe that’s what Rhea did to you as baby. Gave you the Crest of Flames so that when you grew up you could use the Sword of the Creator? Ugh, but how do you use it without…” Claude threw himself out of bed and onto the floor, taking Byleth with him. He scrambled under his bed and pulled out Failnaught. He pressed his hand against the Riegan Creststone. His face pursed in strain as he exerted the Crest in his blood. The Crest Stone flickered with magic. In time with his pulse. He stared at his lover, eyes wide.

“Byleth… Could your heart  _ be _ the Crest Stone of Flames?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is Claude using the wrong equation and still getting the right answer.
> 
> Anyway, I'm really, really sick to the point I was up last night crying, so if there's a delay in chapters, you know why.
> 
> Also, I struggled a bit with Hubert's dialogue. Thoughts?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh this chapter is starting well.

Nader was the stupidest man Byleth ever met. Javelins of light had just fallen from the sky and turned The Old General into a pile of rubble. Yes, they were devastating for Fódlan, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing to say that such javelins couldn’t be launched at Almyra. He should have been leading his army home to inform the royal family, but instead he chose to exercise his singular brain cell. The same one that thought accepting a challenge from Claude’s mother was a good idea. What Nader did defied belief and Byleth refused to accept that he’d done it on purpose to keep Claude and his allies from despair over a weapon they could never hope to counter.

With the wreckage of Fort Merceus still smoking, Nader threw Judith over the back of his wyvern and attempted to fly off into the sunset. Ignatz was the first to react, drawing his bow, finding his quiver empty and stealing an arrow from Claude. Claude, however, put a hand on his shoulder. “No, no, let’s see how this plays out.”

Less than a minute later, Nader fell from his wyvern, Judith’s rapier lodged in his shoulder. She shouted down at him, “I’m keeping her now, you great beast!”

When his soldiers pulled Nader out of the thicket to bandage his wounds, his face was split with a maniacal grin. His expression only lit further when Claude walked over to supervise the healing. “So what do you think, kiddo? That sounds like a yes to me.”

He shrugged helplessly. “If you can get her to agree, I’ll pay for the wedding myself.”

“And a new wyvern.”

“I’m not going that far. She is the Hero of Daphnel.”

Byleth refused to believe the stunt was an intentional morale booster and left the scene shortly after. She found Linhardt and Caspar, not even restrained, slumped over in the grass. Caspar’s face was pink and puffy with smears of dirt and blood. Linhardt rubbed his back and spoke in his even, low cadence. He noticed Byleth first. “Professor.”

“You’re not injured, are you, Caspar?”

He looked up and tears fell from his eyes with a loud wail. “No, I’m fine.”

“We grew up in Fort Merceus,” Linhardt said. “More or less. Even with the evacuation order, a lot of civilians stayed to support our soldiers.”

“He made me sweet buns just this morning!” Caspar clenched his hands into fists and screamed. He rubbed his eyes, as if he were trying to beat them into submission. “This is so stupid! Why do regular people have to die? They didn’t ask for this!”

Byleth sat on his other side and said nothing. They sat there with only Caspar’s grief breaking the silence until the sun began to set. She put her hand on his forearm. “We ordered the army to search the ruins for survivors.”

“What does it matter? That’s not enough! I’m so stupid! I just wanted to be a great general like my dad and now this happens and I’m a sobbing mess and I’m not embarrassed because what happened is horrible and we should be crying and-” He punched the ground. “Honor and glory are just lies, aren’t they, Professor?”

“Do you remember at the Academy when you stopped the man with the scorpion tattoo?”

“Yeah. The knight that dragged me over here said a gang of guys with scorpion tattoos killed a bunch of your soldiers.”

“He was just trying to make you feel bad,” Linhardt said.

“Yeah, well it worked!”

Byleth waited for him to calm down before continuing. “For honor, you should have followed my orders, right?”

Caspar pulled up a handful of grass. “Yeah, but what if he’d hurt those kids?”

“So you’ve always known honor is pointless.”

“Er, what?” The tears paused when he turned to meet her eyes. There was so much hope in his expression, so much faith that she was going to make it right. Maybe not right, but at least better.

“You didn’t choose to fight here. Neither of you did. The choice you did make? You had your people stand down as soon as you knew the Death Knight couldn’t stop us. That wasn’t particularly honorable, was it? They’re probably already calling you a traitor in Enbarr.”

“I just did the right thing! People shouldn’t just die for- for an idea! I don’t even understand what Edelgard wants. People to be judged on their own merits, but she’s only the Emperor because of her Crests! She got rid of her ministers, but just replaced them with other nobles. It doesn’t make sense.” In a flash, Caspar threw his arm around Linhardt and pulled him half into his lap. “And then I dragged Linhardt into this. He was just going to do research for Edelgard, but didn’t want me to get killed.”

“She wanted me to take over Hubert’s magic studies, but that magic he uses, Dark Magic, it’s hard, sharp… Inorganic. I would have had to start from the beginning and that was far too much work.”

“You’re just saying that to make feel better.”

“Well, we’re both alive and with the professor, so it turned out, didn’t it? Though I imagine I’m going to be conscripted into joining the healers.”

Byleth nodded. “You’ll be stationed at Garreg Mach: minimal blood, but there will be a lot of work.”

“I suppose I have to.”

“What about me? My father’s the Minister of Military Affairs. And Lady Rhea said that anyone who sided with Edelgard was committing High Treason.”

“I’m not Rhea.” She waited for the bitterness to leave her voice. “We’ve set up something of an orphanage at the monastery. You’ll be helping there.”

Caspar perked up like a puppy. “Wait, really?”

“It’s not safe to let them run around and they have too much energy. They keep getting underfoot. Besides, the Imperial kids need someone on ‘their side.’”

“You have Imperial kids, too?”

“They’re still children, Caspar.”

“Shut up, Lin!”

She laughed. It wasn’t funny, but the normalcy brought so much relief she couldn’t help it.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh, Professor.”

“You certainly have a wider emotional range than you had at the Academy.”

“You can call me Byleth now.”

“Nah.”

“That’ll be too much work to remember.”

She shook her head. “Everyone says that. Try to get some rest. You’ll both be busy as soon as we get back. Ferdinand and Petra will help you settle in.”

“Ferdinand and Petra? You captured them, too?”

“And Bernie and Hubert. She’s locked up in her room doing textile repairs and making clothes for the kids if she has time. Hubert is still… In confinement, but I think he truly believes we mean Edelgard no harm. It’s just convincing him that her life is more important than her quest.”

“That would be difficult,” Linhardt mused. “His dedication to her was always complex. I do recall him saying that he would serve her even if she was not the Emperor.”

“Yes, but for now he thinks, and I agree with him, that Edelgard would rather die than live having lost the war.”

“That’s just foolish.”

Caspar made a loud, confused sound, similar to a squawk. “That doesn’t make any sense! She can’t fix Fódlan if she’s dead!”

Byleth hugged her knees to her chest. “I think she’s just as haunted by the past as Dimitri. I’ve spoken a lot with Marianne… She said that sometimes people don’t know how to live when they’re not hurting, so they do things they know will end in trouble. She thinks Edelgard feels something like that.”

“Hmm, not a bad theory.” Linhardt rubbed his chin. “I’m sure I’ll find time to discuss it with her in the infirmary.”

“Please do. Thank you, Linhardt. And Caspar?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is very... tired. And heartsore. Especially my son Caspar.


	14. Chapter 14

Byleth carried a delicate tea service to Seteth’s office. It and the brew were both Ferdinand’s. He had been more than happy to take a break from tending the children to help her. The tea contained chamomile for its calming properties, but the rest had gone over her head. Claude had called herb suggestions across the room to avoid his own work, which had led to an argument with Lorenz over Acheron’s former territory. Somehow.

“Ah! Byleth, what a pleasant surprise.” Seteth stood and cleared a space for the tray on his desk. “With what can I help you?”

She ignored him in favor of pouring the tea to Ferdinand’s specifications. She was thankful Sothis wasn’t able to chide her for turning back time just to hear them a second time, but, as past observations showed, her memories of time erased were much clearer. She set the steaming cup and its saucer in front of him and then poured one for herself with far less precision. After a show of inhaling the fragrant steam, she said, “It’s time for you to answer my questions.”

“I will endeavor to answer them to the best of my ability. I know you are doing your utmost to recover Lady Rhea. And after you saved Flayn, there is nothing I can do to repay you.” He took a delicate sip. “A wonderful brew. Thank you.”

She stared into his eyes, let him study the color of them and her hair, let it sink in, vividly, exactly who and what she was. “What are the Heroes’ Relics?”

“They are gifts from-”

Prepared for that response, Byleth threw the Sword of the Creator on his desk, exerting the power of her Crest so that it glowed and knocked the teapot and cups clear into the wall behind him. “What. Are. The. Heroes’. Relics?”

He lowered his hands to the desktop. “I see. I should have expected you would not ask without some idea already.”

She stared into his eyes again and turned back time. It was barely there, just the slightest tell, the slightest change in the angle of his chin and the way Seteth’s eyes looked down, as if he could see the sword through the heavy wood of his desk. “Are you going to lie to me this time?”

“I should have expected you would master the power bestowed upon you during the course of the war.” He picked up his cup and lowered it. His hands fluttered on the delicate porcelain. “Who made them, and how, we don’t know. Nemesis was little more than a bandit when he robbed the Holy Tomb of the Progenitor God’s, of the Goddess’, remains. The next time he appeared, he wielded the Sword of the Creator. It was made from the bones of the Progenitor God. The Crest Stone of Flames was made from what we would call her heart.”

She had suspected and Claude had been certain, but it still hurt to hear. Still made the place inside her mind where Sothis once slept ache.

“The Relics of the Ten Elites… I do not know whose bodies were desecrated to make them. If Rhea does, she never told me. All I know is that they were once fellow Children of the Goddess, made from Sothis’ blood.”

“Like you.”

“Yes.” The weight of the world seemed to drop from his shoulders with the admission, though he’d never be so undignified as to slouch. He inhaled the fragrance of the tea and took a drink. “I have wanted to tell you for some time, but it was not my secret alone to share.”

“Can you also take the form of the Immaculate One?”

The question pushed him off guard. He leaned back and shook his head. “No. No, that is a power I lost long ago. You are… Certainly well-informed.”

“The Adrestian Emperors have passed some knowledge down the generations.” She sipped her tea, more to do something with her hands while she collected her thoughts than anything else. “Having most of the Relics in one place helped. You know Solon tried to give Claude hints as Tomas. We’ve… Been trying to sort fact from intentional twisting of the facts.” She explained the conclusions they’d reached over the course of several sleepless nights.

Seteth nodded along at many points, but did not interrupt the explanation to clarify anything. “It seems to me that you have come to many correct conclusions, even if you were using faulty evidence. You are missing one critical piece.”

“Who made the Relics?”

He almost laughed. “Two critical pieces. From what happened in the past, we can only assume the javelins of light were wrought by the same entity that made the Relics. This is not the first time they’ve struck. Long ago, they were aimed at the Holy Tomb, but the protection of the Progenitor God diverted them, creating what is now Ailell. The other piece is why the war with Nemesis was so difficult for us. Why we needed to create the Adrestian Empire.”

He looked out of his window. After a deep breath, he turned to her and asked, “Do you remember Zanado? The Red Canyon?”

“Yes. Sothis said that visiting made some of her memories return. She didn’t know then that she was the Goddess.”

“When the Progeniture God took her eternal sleep in the Holy Tomb, most of her children settled in Zanado to be close. They lived in peace and near-isolation. One day, Nemesis appeared, already wielding the Sword of the Creator.” A shadow appeared in his eyes and then took over his entire body, leaving him with his chin tilted down. “Seiros was the only one to survive to see the walls painted with blood. I was… elsewhere, when the massacre occurred. Seiros collected those of us who yet lived, founded the Empire… and then we fought Nemesis on the Tailean Plains. It was in that battle that my- Well, you will know on some thought.”

Byleth nodded. That was when his wife died. The new information swirled in her mind, settling into the cracks in their theories and slipping a foundation underneath it all. “Thank you.”

“I believe… That I needed someone to speak to on it. Someone that didn’t share the scars.”

She reached across the desk and put her hand over his, squeezing his fingers.

There weren’t tears in his eyes when they met hers, but the shadow had passed, revealing a raw vulnerability. “I do not know for certain what Rhea did to you, but I believe, whatever her goals, she managed circumstances such that you came to be one of us.”

With her free hand, Byleth touched her chest over where her heart should be. “We think she put the Crest Stone of Flames in me.”

“That… That would explain many things, yes. My understanding is that she shared her blood with Jeralt and that your mother… Well, I cannot say about her, but with your appearance, with the five years sleep… Whatever you were; you are family.” The single word carried much more than the denotation of blood ties. He admitted it like he was telling her she was the only air he could breathe. Like she was something desperately wished for, but never expected.

“I won’t let Rhea kill Edelgard or any of the others. Even if she’s the reason I can defy her, I will not bend. Our true enemy is the one who made the Relics. The one who magicked the javelins of light. I will find them and destroy them, but I won’t leave dead children in my wake.”

Seteth nodded and a tear finally did break his composure. “I am thankful you have the will to do so. I have disagreed with Rhea many times, but…”

“I understand.” She squeezed his fingers again. “Thank you. For the truth.”

“It is the least I can offer you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I have wanted to post this chapter for DAYS. 
> 
> Seteth was a pain and a half to write, but I am really pleased with how this turned out. I really waffled on whether or not I was going to roll back time on the teapot, but finally decided Byleth wouldn't do that to Ferdie's teapot.
> 
> Seteth being able to sense the Divine Pulse was extrapolated from Jeralt's noticing it in the prologue.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Wyverns Doo doo doo doo doo doo

Byleth was in the section of the monastery repurposed into an orphanage when The Ruckus, as it was later known, began. Caspar was with her, so at least she knew it wasn’t him. She toddler she’d been holding refused to be set down, so she left carrying the small, brunet child in her arms. “Caspar, stay here.”

“Aw, come on!”

“Those aren’t panicked yells. I’m certain there isn’t any danger.”

His grumbles accompanied her for far longer than was reasonable, but trust Caspar to be loud enough. As easy as it was to find the source of excitement, it seemed to be on the very edge of monastery grounds. Byleth’s purposeful stride, or her status, parted the milling crowds, even when they grew thicker. The child in her arms sucked their thumb and rested their head on her shoulder, unbothered by the noise and heavy press of bodies. She shielded the back of their head as she shouldered through the line of enraptured soldiers blocking her view of whatever it was.

The first thing to strike her was Claude, standing sheepish with one hand behind his neck and rocking back on his heels. Ignatz was lecturing him at full volume with flushed cheeks about supplies and food rations

Claude held up his hand in ineffective placation. “I’m not disagreeing with you, really, but we can’t exactly snub the Almyran royal family by returning their gift. Don’t forget they loaned us Nader and his army for Fort Merceus. Besides, between you and Ashe, I’m sure you can arrange something with our suppliers.”

Ignatz deflated. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was just caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me; I apologize.”

“Hey now, no need for that. You’re right, of course, and it’s not like they’ll grow up in time to be of any use in the war. Here, I’ll write to my steward and see if House Riegan can spare anything for them.”

“That would help. I’ll go find Ashe and make a negotiation strategy.”

“You’re a life saver.”

Byleth shifted the child to her other arm and put her hand on her hip, though her face was impassive. As much as she’d gotten good at showing her emotions sometimes the blank stare came out. “A gift from the Almyran royal family?”

Claude laughed loud and carefree, as if his secret heritage wasn’t on fully display. “You remember Nader the Undefeated? Apparently, he’s a close personal friend of the Almyran king and queen. He gave them what I can only imagine is a rather exaggerated account everything that happened.”

Hilda shoved her way from the gift to stand in front of Claude. “He’s editorializing, Professor. They sent them as a wedding gift!”

Byleth had so many questions. They punched and kicked their way to her mouth, so while they fought over which one she would ask first, she stroked the child. She finally settled on, “Wedding gift?”

“You haven’t exactly kept your relationship a secret, you know,” Hilda said. “The little kisses and casual hand-holding…” She sighed with hearts in her eyes. “You two are adorable. He must have thought you were already married.”

Byleth nodded. That was good thinking, even if Nader knew perfectly well his former student wasn’t married. “Alright. What are ‘them’ that we were given?”

Claude grabbed her arm with all of the excitement and vigor of a five year old about to show off his favorite toy. He dragged her back to a hastily constructed barn. Inside was Mirza and a large black wyvern that was undoubtedly his mate. As well as their entire clutch of baby wyverns.

The child in her arms took that moment to demand the ground. She set them down and they toddled to the nearest baby wyvern. They giggled and grabbed the animal around the neck. Mirza’s mate sniffed the child and then wrapped both babies in her wing.

“Zel, you can’t just adopt human babies,” Claude chided.

The ridges over the wyvern’s eyes came together and she bared her teeth in clear challenge.

“They are an orphan.” Byleth put her chin in her hand.

“Teach!”

She met his eyes and smiled. “I’m sure she’ll let them go in an hour or so.” Byleth patted herself down, checking all of her little pockets until she found the small bag she’d found in her father’s office. She tossed it at Claude before kneeling next to the wyvern hatchlings. They trundled toward her, wings flailing to keep their balance. She held onto their wingtips like tiny hands. She counted down from ten in her head.

Behind her, Claude struggled with the knots holding the bag closed. “What’s this? How do you even make knots this small? Is this a fingernails thing?”

“Oh, I just thought you should have that, if we’re already getting gifts,” Byleth said. She could picture how the small frown of ‘not knowing’ would cross his face, complete with wrinkled forehead and clenched eyebrows.

“Teach!” Claude crashed to his knees next to her and yanked her onto his lap. “You can’t just spring this on a guy so casually.”

Byleth laughed, the biggest, loudest, truest one to date. And then was immediately mobbed by tiny wyverns. Even Mirza closed in, sniffing her hair. “I take that as a yes?”

Claude removed one hand from her waist to tilt her head back until he could kiss her. And he did. Several times. He pressed them all over her face: cheeks, forehead, eyelids, laughing lips. “You can’t do this.” A kiss. “I had something in mind!”

“A scheme?”

He held her face in both hands and kissed her once more, slow, chaste, but full of their quiet intimacy. “I love you with everything that I am. I would be honored to stay by your side forever.”

Byleth cupped his cheek and kissed him again in response. “Good because I wasn’t planning to return the gift.”

Claude’s eyes sparkled and he nuzzled her face. “Technically, it’s a courting gift on behalf of my family, not a wedding gift, but I couldn’t exactly tell Hilda that.”

“I’m sure everyone knows, Your Royal Highness. They just know you’re having fun and are too polite to spoil it for you.”

“Such cruelty! And from my fianceé!” He kissed under her ear. “We’re lucky no one followed us in.”

“I’m sure it’s entirely Hilda’s doing.”

“Definitely. We’ll have to get her something nice.”

“I’ll just let her dress me up for a few special occasions.” She gave him one last kiss before wrangling the human child from Zel. “I’ve got to go take this one back, now that I know the monastery’s not on fire.”

“That’s it? You just come over, propose to a guy and go back to work?”

She patted his cheek. “Says the one who slept two hours last night.”

“Well-”

“Enjoy your break with the hatchlings. I need to get back to the human hatchlings and ensure Caspar hasn’t taught them how to brawl or something.”

He caught her hand just before she got out of reach. All of his affected mischief was gone from his face. His green eyes were serious as they stared directly into her soul. “I really do love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you.”

“I’m never gonna let you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the part you've all been waiting for, lmao


	16. Chapter 16

“Ah, Professor, I was just-” Ferdinand stumbled over his words. His hands were full of a tea tray with a coffee press and he was, most incriminatingly, leaving Hubert’s cell.

Claude laughed and waved him off. “You’re not in trouble. We’re glad you’ve been visiting him. And you’re not the only one.”

Cheeks flushed, Ferdinand cleared his throat. “Well, then, I’ll just be on my way back to the kitchen.”

Byleth gave him a small smile, but it only served to make him more embarrassed. With him out of the way, they entered the small room. Hubert looked in better spirits than the last time they’d spoken, though his ominous countenance made it difficult to discern. His laundry was out, since he was wearing a tan tunic and brown trousers under the black and red coat Bernadetta had made for him. She’d spent the better part of an hour apologizing for ‘wasting resources,’ which was tiring to listen to, but at least she felt safe enough to take some initiative.

Byleth sat on the empty chair and Claude stood at her shoulder. She folded her hands in her lap. “We’re preparing to march on Enbarr.”

“I suspected as much,” Hubert said. “Everyone has come by to pointedly not tell me anything about it. They truly lack subtlety.”

Byleth held a hand up to Claude before he could speak. “Don’t say a word, barbarossa.” After his chuckle, she continued, “Do you have a plan for convincing Edelgard not to commit suicide by army?”

“Suicide by army? Now that is a curious, if accurate, turn of phrase.” Hubert shook his head exactly once. “No. Destroying the Church has been her sole motivation since she was made the sole heir.”

Claude paced. “That’s been bothering me. She had ten siblings. Ten Imperial heirs aren’t that easy to get rid of, even during an insurrection.”

Hubert leaned back in his seat and lifted a hand to his chin. “Have you truly not spoken to Lysithea? I’m almost disappointed.”

“But if Edelgard and her siblings were unwilling experiments of that group, why work with them?” Claude held out his hand, like he was offering Hubert the concept. “We’ve more or less confirmed that Lord Arundel was one of theirs, a la Tomas and Monica being Solon and Kronya, and Edelgard was working closely with her ‘uncle.’” He put his hand on his forehead. “And then Edelgard was trying to denounce them after Remire Village…”

“You’re basing your conclusions on the premise that this mysterious group is a more pressing concern than the Church of Seiros. Her Majesty chose to act against what she believed to be the greater threat.” Hubert lowered his eyes. “And while I believe she has convinced herself otherwise, she was not given the option to refuse working with them.”

Byleth waved Claude to silence before he could speak. The set of Hubert’s shoulders was almost defeated. If she had learned anything from her time separated from her emotions it was that people will often just keep talking if you say nothing.

“Regardless of your opinion on the Church, there is no doubt that those who slither in the dark are the true threat, not only to Fódlan, but to the entire world. I may be able to convince her to redirect her immediate ire them. As long as she is alive, she can continue to plot against the Church.”

Byleth looked up at Claude. He met her eyes and nodded. She reached out to Hubert and patted his hands. “We spent a long time talking to your classmates. You’re compassionate, but lack the empathy to properly act on that compassion in most cases. With that, and our common goal of keeping Edelgard alive, we’ve agreed to release you from both confinement and the Silence. You may go to Edelgard now or meet her once she is defeated. For everyone’s sake, I suggest you leave now.”

“You are foolish to trust me.” Hubert’s cold words couldn’t hide the light in his eyes or the way he stood before they even left. 

“If caring about other people is foolish, I’m guilty as charged.” Claude smiled at him and pretended to go in for a hug, only backing up when Hubert looked fit to spit venom.

Byleth stood. “We’ll see you in the capital. Good luck.”

They left him to pack his things, or simply teleport away once his magic returned. They didn’t speak until they were safely ensconced in her father’s old office. It didn’t matter how long he’d been gone or how many times Alois removed his things, it would always be Jeralt’s office. Now that her emotions danced along her skin instead of hiding deep in her chest, Byleth imagined she could feel his presence there. Not in the ghost sense, more like… Like she could imagine how he felt, sitting there. She squeezed Claude’s hand, but didn’t comment on it. 

They sat on opposite sides of the desk. Claude rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a little…” He let his breath out in a huff. “We’re kind of up in our Ivory Tower, putting so many resources into saving just the people we know.”

Byleth stared into the scarred woodgrain. Not because it was difficult to look at Claude and accept the truth behind his words. She’d flagellated herself with the same thought repeatedly since she woke up. “Heroes’ relics hurt the bearer if they don’t have a Crest. Seteth called the Crest Stones hearts. If the wielder has the right Crest, they can use its power. The heart agrees with the intended use.”

His mouth thinned to a worried line, but Claude didn’t interrupt her to ask what she meant. A few ideas made shadows cross his eyes, but nothing definitive.

“Sothis wanted to save everyone. Kept calling you ‘the children.’” She smiled without humor. “She called me a child, too. I don’t know what would happen if I turned her power against them.”

“I thought she was gone?”

“She is and she isn’t. She can’t talk to me the way she did, but she’s still… here.” She put her hand over where her heart should be. “When I slept for five years, she woke me up. It was no coincidence I came back for the reunion. She didn’t want me to miss it.”

Claude licked his lips and reached out for her hand. He laced their fingers together. “You said she wanted to get revenge for Jeralt. Years ago.”

Byleth’s face scrunched as she tried to remember exactly what Sothis said. “She wanted to defeat, she called them the ‘wicked ones.’ She yelled at me for falling into Solon’s trap, but I think that was just because it inconvenienced her. But yes, I think we can rely on the power to go after them once we’re done in Enbarr.”

Claude laughed and pulled her hand up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “Have I ever mentioned that I love you?”

“A few times. Why now?”

“Because I don’t have to say every part of my thoughts. I give you a fragment and you just pick up the thread like you’re in my head.” His smile was bright enough to steal some of the darkness from her thoughts.

“You’re in my head. All of the time. Can’t get rid of you, really.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re stuck with me. Especially since you don’t want to send the wyverns back.”

“That’s the primary reason.”

They didn’t wish each other good luck or plead for the other to stay safe. They’d fought enough battles, but, more importantly, they trusted so deeply the words went unsaid. Claude would make it through the battle because he’d promised his life to Byleth and she would do the same. Maybe it was tempting fate.

But fate had brought them together, so, really, acting any other way would be an insult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of "Hubert is difficult, but satisfying to write."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I really hate fight scenes and I really love this chapter, so please show me some support for the blood, sweat and tears that went into this. It's probably my favorite of the entire story, so let me know what you liked!

It was hot in Enbarr, the air thick and suffocating. Byleth rode between Lorenz and Sylvain, both silent in the midst of the crushing tension. Claude flew overhead. His wyvern corps relayed his orders to the ground with vibrant flags and arrows that trailed colored ribbons. The city hadn’t been evacuated, the first message came. Edelgard was hemming them in with her morality. It made Byleth’s teeth ache.

She signalled to Raphael, who after a moment of thought and a few animated frowns, signalled back with his own flags. It was an ingenious system, really, unsurprisingly taught to them by Claude, who knew how the Almyran navy relayed orders. For no particular reason, of course. They hadn’t used it earlier in the war, instead holding it back for the critical moment. As much as she loved his self-satisfied grins and the way his presence lit up a room when he pulled out such tactics, she would have appreciated knowing ahead of time. They would work on it once the war was over.

As they fought through the streets of Enbarr, Byleth focused on closing wounds with her White Magic. The Divine Pulse sat in her throat, threatening to choke her. None of her former students died before reaching the imperial palace. They had studied hard and trained relentlessly, but she’d read the battle plans. She knew Claude had moved battalions and units around to protect their friends. Overall, the strategy was conservative and made for slow going through the twisting streets, but that was the cost of protecting certain individuals without putting others in jeopardy.

Claude flew down and dismounted at the palace’s great doors. He whispered instructions to Shahin before patting his flank and watching him fly off. He clasped Byleth’s hand, but that was the extent of their greeting. “I saw Hubert in one of the upstairs windows. He made eye contact, but that was it.”

“So she knows what we want.”

“There’s more. There’re a bunch of Slither mages-”

“Slither mages?”

Claude threw his hands up. “You know what I mean! Anyway, they’ve been purposefully avoiding you, like they don’t want you to know they’re here. I don’t know why they thought no one would tell you, or what they plan to do-”

“Their magic,” Lorenz interrupted, “Dark Magic, as Lysithea calls it, has a farther reach than White or Black spells. They also don’t need to directly see their target to cast, though one as talented in Black Magic as-”

“Yeah, we get it, Lorenz.” Sylvain elbowed him out of the way. “Not to bring up bad memories, but remember the last battle with Solon? He ripped out Kronya’s heart to power that spell. Even if we assume they can only sacrifice their own people, the numbers aren’t good.”

“It’s good to have in mind, but we’re not changing tacts now. Teach will go straight for the throne room and incapacitate Edelgard while we go through the wings. Slither mages will be priority targets.” Claude rubbed the back of his neck. “Then anyone who looks like a warden or a commander. We got the keys Ferdinand gave us, but Edelgard’s not foolish enough to have not changed the locks.”

“Rekeying the entire palace would take an army of locksmiths!” Lorenz cried.

“Well conveniently Lorenz,” Sylvain drawled, “she’s happened to have had an army or two on hand in the months since we captured Ferdinand.”

“I take your point.”

Claude clapped him on the shoulder. “Everyone regroup with your squads and we’ll break down these doors.” Once again, he shared only an exchanged of squeezed fingers with Byleth before parting. 

She stood tall with her chin raised high as she waited. Just before Raphael and his corps of strong-backed siegebreakers could knock down the doors, he enveloped her in a tight hug, lifting her feet from the ground. She squeaked. “Raphael!”

“You looked like you needed it. Big brother senses!” He flexed. “Don’t worry, Professor. We’ll all be fine. I promise.”

She kissed his cheek and patted his arm when he set her down. She gestured to the door and then drew the Sword of the Creator. She felt, or imagined she felt, the Crest Stone in her chest pulse with power that sank into the sword. It didn’t glow, but the hilt warmed under her fingers. When the splinters and iron fell to the ground, Byleth rushed forward, flanked by and her father’s old mercenary company.  _ This is for you, Father. I’ll save her. Just like that fateful day. _

Sound disappeared around her, as it had back then, back before her emotions took up space in her thoughts. She heard her boots clack against the tile, heard enemy bow twangs, the scream from fire spells, but none of the shouting or flesh tearing reached her. The Sword of the Creator tore through her enemies like a fillet knife. She turned on a coin and dodged a crackling black and purple spell that materialized only a foot in front of her. It dissolved one of her sleeves off, but she paid it no heed, adjusting to the change in weight without a thought.

The mages that healed her scraped knees in her childhood launched fireballs at the heavy, gilded doors leading to the throne room. She dove below them, swinging her sword and snaring the ankle of the commander through his scattered troops. He howled silently as she leapt over him. The smouldering doors gave way under a heavy kick. The plan had never been to reach Edelgard together. The faster she made the Emperor surrender, the fewer lives would be lost.

Byleth sprinted toward the dias, ignoring the stairs in favor of trusting Sothis’ power within to give her leap the height she needed. She slid on the rug after she landed, already swinging her sword.

But her blade died in the air. Edelgard laid crumpled at the foot of the throne, Hubert knelt over her, desperately casting what little White Magic he knew.

Sound returned in a rush of two strained words. “My… teacher…”

“Edelgard!”

“Professor!” Leonie shouted before throwing her bodily out of the way. Together, they crashed down the stairs to the main level. A sick array of black and purple assaulted the air where she’d been standing. Leonie was back on her feet in an instant, holding her lance with arms that shook from the pure adrenaline from her dash.

The sounds of battle faded again, but it wasn’t her mind, it was some twisted work of magic. In the numb silence, high heels clacked against the blood-stained tiles. Once the woman reached the dias, she looked down and clapped her hands enthusiastically.

“Wonderful show, Fell Star. Absolutely delightful. How kind of you to invade just when I was visiting my dear niece, Edelgard, hmm? Not my real niece, of course, but Patricia has ever been my very best friend.” She wore a beautiful, floor-length gown with feathers framing her shoulders.

“Cornelia!” Felix snarled. 

“Oh, you’re Rodrigue’s son! My, how much you’ve grown.” Cornelia clapped her hands to her perfectly made up cheeks as if greeting him at a luxurious ball. “Glenn, right?” She smiled, baring her teeth when Felix snarled. “Oh, that’s right, silly me. Glenn died when my dear Lord Arundel brought Patricia home to her daughter. You must be the other one. Philip.”

Byleth stalked toward the stairs, sword raised and glowing with Sothis’ power.

“Now, now, Fell Star. No need to be rude. You can at least say hello.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder when Byleth continued her silent advance. She threw her hands out. “Fine, but I am not going to win this war with none of you beasts knowing the truth.”

Byleth reached the top of the stairs, but was stopped by an invisible barrier. She grunted and threw her weight behind her shoulder, but it didn’t budge.

Cornelia put a hand over her heart and stood at the edge of the dias like a primadonna at the opera. “My greatest achievement was the simply marvelous plague I started in Fhirdiad. Their pathetic healers tried medicine after tincture and nothing worked. Why would it when my magic was the cause?” Her laugh was like glass bells shattering. “But then Cornelia, the real one, darlings, keep up, she came and used her magic to stop it.”

She pouted and put her hand on her hip. “But she was ever so lovely. And now look at me! I haven’t aged a day. I was disappointed, of course-”

Behind Byleth a door shattered and Claude burst through with his squad. Though wary, they approached with haste.

“How rude of you to interrupt! Well, nevermind. I killed their silly queen and then became a trusted advisor. Myson!” She shouted the name. “You can go ahead and kill her now. Don’t worry, Thales taught me to ensure she doesn’t get any… second chances.” She licked her lips.

Byleth pulled on the divine magic, but felt only a lurch in her stomach. She couldn’t rewind time. She wasn’t sure if time slowing was just her perception as the danger set in or if she’d managed to slow it despite the technique. It didn’t matter. Spears of black and purple magic surrounded her in every direction. They even distorted the air overhead, preventing a jump to safety.

She looked over her shoulder and met Claude’s eyes across the throne room. Had she ever seen him truly afraid before? The revelation about the Relics had been difficult, but couldn’t hold a candle to pure terror on his face. It would have broken her heart if he hadn’t replaced it with steely determination. His mouth opened in a wordless shout, his palm outstretched as he ran for her. He didn’t look away as the magic sparked and crackled closer.

Then time resumed its normal pace.

Byleth heard his shout and fell onto the dias, through where the barrier had been. She looked up in time to see Felix skewer Cornelia on his sword. Her hands reached for the wound in shock even as her knees buckled and fell into a pool of silk and blood. Before it could even truly register in her mind, Byleth was scooped off the floor and pulled tight to Claude’s chest.

He adopted a falsetto. “Don’t learn White Magic, Claude. You’re no good at it, Claude. Magic scares wyverns, Claude.” He kissed her hair. “Yeah, well, good thing I learned how to cast Silence, isn’t it?”

Byleth laughed and cried at the same time, clutching his arm hysterically. She barely noticed Marianne run past her to Edelgard, hands already glowing with White Magic. She’d never felt so helpless and relieved and- She’d never felt so much at all in her entire life. She pressed her face into his shoulder and let the others handle the surrender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, if you get his White Magic up, Claude DOES learn Silence.
> 
> [Also, I'm doing Bad Things Happen Bingo, so please send in a request for Bylaude or whatever strikes your fancy!](https://tk-duveraun.tumblr.com/post/187899336624/can-i-request-some-ferdibert-rage-against-the)


	18. Chapter 18

Edelgard looked terrible. Her hair was limp and fragile, breaking if brushed too hard. The shadows under her eyes were bone deep. Her mouth was set so firmly in a frown, she couldn’t smile if she wanted to. Her skin was so pale Byleth could see her pulse throb in her neck, but Edelgard’s voice was even and full of confidence. “I had no plans to surrender. Cornelia made the decision herself, as those people always do.”

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Byleth said. “Linhardt is working with Lysithea to find a way to remove her Crests. He doesn’t want to remove both, but they both think that would be easier, so if push comes to shove, he’ll do it.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Edelgard balled her hands into fists, even though the weakness made it take a long time.

“Yes, but I refuse to engage with your suicidal ideation.” Byleth took a sip of tea.

Edelgard snapped her head dismissively to the side, but flinched with pain. “This is pointless. We both know Rhea won’t let me live.”

“That’s not her decision to make.” She set down her tea cup on the matching saucer and stood. With measured steps, she walked around Edelgard’s medical cot and pulled back the curtains. The infirmary was lit only by light streaming in from the windows. She helped Edelgard sit up and pointed out to the sea. “This isn’t Garreg Mach.”

“You truly believe you can stop a monster?”

She laid Edelgard back down and returned to her seat, leaving the curtains open. “She made me into something that could stop her. There are consequences for every action.”

“So it’s true, then? She infused you with the power of the Goddess?” Her eyes sparkled with a combination of trepidation and confusion, her mouth quirked even further down.

Byleth put her hand where her heart should be. “She put the Crest Stone of Flames inside me. It turned me into a baby that neither laughed no cried. And the person you met those years ago.”

“I knew she was depraved, but even I would never have imagined…” Slowly, as to not strain her neck again, Edelgard shook her head. “I’m sorry, my teacher.”

“Hubert is here. Recovering.” She nodded to a curtained bed. “He drained himself to keep you stable. Mercedes has him in a healing sleep for now. He’s expected to make a full recovery.”

“And the others? You stole everyone that mattered to me.” She looked down, knowing the accusation was unfair, that it was hardly stealing when she threw them at the opposing army.

“Dorothea is in a bad way. When she learned what happened to you, she attacked those people without a thought for herself. She will live, but the healers have said nothing else for certain.”

Sadness swept across Edelgard’s face like a shadow. “Of course she would. Foolish woman.”

“We all have something that makes us foolish.” Byleth refilled her cup of tea and inhaled the fragrance. “Rhea was taken to Garreg Mach to convalesce. Seteth has taken the liberty of not informing her that you and your former allies live. She will know in time, but I plan to stall the confrontation until after we defeat those who slither in the dark.”

Though it was hollow and weak, Edelgard laughed and the sound put Byleth’s heart in her throat. “So Hubert has you calling them that, too. His sense of humor confounds me.”

She smiled. “Claude’s certainly been having fun with the name, but unfortunately, we still don’t know where their base of operations is. We captured Myson at the Palace, but he somehow managed to end his life before we could question him.”

Edelgard used both arms to painstakingly lift herself into a sitting position. She looked out the window. “Where am I?”

“Derdriu.”

“And you have no concern that an opportunistic soldier will try to take revenge for five years of war?”

Byleth took the pillows from an empty cot and put them behind Edelgard’s back. “It didn’t occur to me, no, but Claude has the entire hospital complex guarded by Almyran soldiers.”

She tried to laugh again, but it came out as a cough. When she recovered, she said, “Oh? So he’s finally revealed his bloodline?”

“Not a chance. And no even suspects him. I thought I taught everyone better than this.”

“The sea really is beautiful here.”

“I like it, too. I’ll miss it when we go to Almyra.”

Edelgard didn’t look away from the window when she asked, “What will become of the Empire when you go?”

“We’re establishing a council to rule during war recovery. Your classmates, Randolph von Bergliez, Ladislava, if Hilda thinks we can trust her.”

“Ladislava… She was an orphan, like Dorothea. Joined the army for a roof over her head and food in her stomach. She wants a new world.”

“Then she can help build it. Ferdinand is full of ideas about schools to train commoners to be nobles. Something like that. I’m sure one of them will be able to ground his idealism.”

Edelgard’s mouth moved silently as she thought. Finally, she said, “I have an idea what he might mean by that, but I don’t suppose I’ll be able to contribute.”

“I’m sure they’ll visit and write you, but I believe you’ll live the rest of your life here in exile.”

That made her turn. “Exile? In Derdriu? You’re not uniting Fódlan?”

Byleth shook her head. “You promised your people a secular Adrestia. The people of the Kingdom would never agree to that. And the Alliance would rather start another war than lose their autonomy. No, when he recovers, Dimitri will be King of Faerghus, the High Lords will rule the Alliance and… As I said about the Empire.”

“Cornelia said he’d escaped, but I never truly believed he’d survive to see the end of the war.” Edelgard gave another slow shake of her head. “What you’ve done defies belief.”

Byleth had nothing to say to that, so she drank her tea and watched the sea.

The sun was starting to set when Edelgard spoke again. “Do you believe in fate, my teacher?”

“I don’t think I have a choice anymore.”

Painstakingly, Edelgard turned to her. “Ladislava knows the location of those who slither in the dark. She was to rule over Goneril territories and the Eastern part of the Alliance when we took it. She did reconnaissance in advance of the assault and found them.” She huffed. “It was too risky to put the information to paper, lest my ‘uncle’ or one of the others stumble upon it. If you had killed her, your quest would be without end.”

“I’ll have her brought here to see you while we prepare the army to march East. Try to rest. I’ll-”

“You’re not surprised?”

Byleth took her hand in both of hers. Tears welled in her eyes. “I spent so long afraid for your condition and how you would respond to your capture. That you’re so well… Nothing else will surprise me for a long time.”

“When I recover, I’ll give you the resistance you imagined.”

She smiled, she laughed and the tears fell from her eyes. She squeezed Edelgard’s hands. “Make sure you do, El.” When Edelgard started crying, she released her hand. “I’ll send Mercedes in to check on you. She’ll give you a proper update on Hubert and you can discuss your recovery with her.”

“Thank you, my teacher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the wonderful comments!
> 
> My health has taken a turn for the worse lately, nothing... Let's say, too severe, but it _is_ terrifying and suggests some similarly terrifying, though not deadly, things about the future, so it was a rather well-timed and very much appreciated boost to my morale.
> 
> I'm not trying to fish for sympathy, though that's inevitable with a message like this, it's more that pretending I'm not scared of the developments has been making me feel exponentially worse because it means I'm not processing the feelings, so let's just say, I need to be strapped to a therapy chair between Dimi and El :P


	19. Chapter 19

Blood dripped from Byleth’s hair and down her cheek. The pulsing neon lights in the underground city made her jaw tense and head ache, even if not for the head wound. Her companions fought around her: Hilda swinging her giant axe, Claude with both sleeves in tatters and blood soaking his bow, Lorenz with Black Magic crackling around his hands. She barely registered their presence. She was the Ashen Demon, stalking toward Thales to kill him with the weapon his people made from her blood and bones. The Sword of the Creator glowed in time with her pulse, the magic brighter the closer she got.

Thales bared his teeth as he barked orders, but his commanders fell long before they could carry them out. His defeat crept up his body like the shadows he loved so desperately. He stepped backward, his cloak doing nothing to hide the stiffness of the movements. He threw his right hand at her, casting a black and purple spell that she slashed down with her sword. “You will not enjoy your victory, Fell Star!”

Unbidden, words fell from her mouth. “I am the beginning. Both sides of time are revealed to me.” She blinked. When her eyes opened, magic burst from the depths of her soul.

“Byleth, no!” Claude shouted, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

In front of her eyes, time raced forward. She fought Thales back, he knelt and activated a sigil on the floor. Then rumbling, the city beginning to collapse around them until javelins of light pierced through the rock overhead and destroyed everything. She snapped out her arm, the sword’s whipping blade slicing through the vision. That future wouldn’t come to pass.

Thales cackled, the sound breaking like lightning. “I know your foul tricks! You cannot stop this! I will cleanse the world for all Agarthans!” He knelt and placed his hand in the center of the sigil, purple light bursting into blinding radiance.

Byleth turned back time with a wordless scream. Instead of stalking, she ran. Again, Thales activated the sigil. Back, again, her blood sizzling as it flew through the air. The tip of her sword shot out and pierced his heart, but not before the purple light enveloped them both.

“You cannot change this future, Fell Star!”

She pushed the clock back further, to when the power erupted from her. Maybe that was why Claude shouted, because of the blood dripping from her nose, because of the tears in her armor from the divine magic...

She shouted again and time froze, rippling out like waves underwater. The air was thick and resisted. She moved against the current of time, pressing through frozen moments with the Sword of the Creator burning bright in her hands.

“They are revealed to me alone.” The words slipped out of her mouth as if she stood before her class lecturing. “What will I do?”

“Your time is over, foul wretch!” Thales’ magic hit her in a barrage through the stillness. It tore at her clothes and rendered her flesh from her bones for an instant before it reformed. “There was never a goddess to protect you!”

“I chose peace! Then and now! I will not let you ruin it.”

Thales’ body flickered as she pushed through time, as if her will was enough to deny his very existence. It nearly was, but when she stood over the sigil Thales remained, frozen and disjointed. Time resumed when she plunged the full length of the Sword of the Creator into his chest. His hand struck out like a beast’s claw. Sharp with dark magic, it tore open her chest before she threw his body aside and away from the sigil. She thrust her sword through the dark marks. Blood dripped from her chest into the wound in the floor. When it made contact with the sword, red light burst from within the cracks, magic beating in time with her pulse until the floor was irrevocably broken.

She fell to her knees, her cheek pressed into the empty hilt of the sword. The magic in her eyes died and the power in her soul winked out. Her chest wrenched like brutal sobs were crying out of the wound in her chest.

“Byleth… Teach, Teach, look at me!” Claude’s gloved hands cradled her cheeks, soft at first, but hard and desperate when she failed to respond. “No! It doesn’t end like this.”

A wet chink as stone hit rock, then Byleth’s body lurched forward, motionless.

“Don’t learn White Magic, Claude,” he said, the falsetto cracked and broken by tears. “You’re no good at it, Claude.” He covered her back with his body and pressed his glowing hands to the hole in her chest. His tears mixed with the blood on her face. “It scares the wyverns, Claude.” He gasped. “Please, Byleth.”

When the wound closed, he laid her on her back, but it was so much worse than he could have imagined. The skin was sealed over her heart, yes, but as he watched, the light in her hair faded, the magic of the Goddess… gone. He collapsed over her, unable to hold himself up. He tried to savor the last few moments of warmth from her, his hands clenched around her arms, even as the rest of his body was limp. It wasn’t right, could never be right again, how was he supposed to live after hearing her heart beat for the last time.

He froze and with stiff, mechanical limbs, sat up. She had a heartbeat. He’d felt it under his ear. As he watched, her chest rose and fell, small hitches from pained breaths. Claude tore his throat to shreds calling for Marianne.

\---

Byleth woke warm, but stiff and with a dull, throbbing ache in her chest. She tried to move, but found herself restrained by Claude’s limbs. Her struggle woke him up. He sighed, squeezed her and kissed her head before it sunk in what had woken him. His hand was scalding on her cheek as he tilted her face up. “Love? Are you- You’re really-” His face crumpled and he pushed it into her hair to let out silent tears.

“I’m… me.” Her emotions felt far away again, but not as difficult to pull to the surface as they had once been. “Just me.”

Claude laughed through a sob into her hair. “Yes, my friend, you very dramatically ejected the Crest Stone of Flames  _ from your chest _ after defeating the world’s greatest threat.”

Byleth pulled his face down with her hands on his cheeks. She pressed their foreheads together. “I wanted to stay with you.”

He rubbed their cheeks together. “I’m not ever letting you go.”

She shook her head, but not enough to break the intimate contact. “I would have… become the Goddess… I couldn’t watch you grow old without me.”

“I would have just had to live forever, then.”

It wasn’t that funny, but they laughed because they could. Because it took away the heaviness of the tears. They laughed and kissed and rubbed their faces together.

“We should go home, soon.”

“Mmm. First I want to get rid of Failnaught. And you still have to scold Rhea and make sure she doesn’t undo any of our hard work. Holst will be able to keep her in check here, but I don’t know about Rodrigue.” He yawned. “We didn’t really set up the council in the empire yet, either.”

Byleth smushed her face into his collar. “Make Lorenz do it.”

He laughed, a real, deep laugh. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t you worry. Just rest. We’ll be home soon enough and looking down over the world we’ve dreamed of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left!


	20. Chapter 20

Rhea gasped when Byleth entered the audience chamber. She ran across the room, her robes trailing behind her. She reached for her, but Byleth dodged her grasp. “Oh no, dear one, what happened to you?”

“I defeated those who slither in the dark.” She drew the Sword of the Creator, Crest Stone in the hilt, and held it out to Rhea. “Sothis has gone back to sleep. Let her rest. She will return if it is needful.” She relaxed when she felt Claude’s hand touch the middle of her back.

Hands shaking, Rhea took the sword and cradled it to her chest. She stared at the red stone and spoke in a broken whisper. “But how? How could she leave me again?”

Byleth let the Ashen Demon’s expressionless face take over her. “She was tired. All she wanted was to protect the students here. I’ve done that. See to it that you don’t undo her work.”

Rhea pulled up the sword until the Crest Stone rubbed against her cheek. 

Seteth looked on uneasily, shifting his weight and glancing at Byleth. “What do you plan to do now that the war is over and those who slither in the dark are no more?”

“I’m human again. Finally. It’s time for me to live my own life.” She glanced over her shoulder at Claude.

“We’re going to make sure the peace between Almyra and Fódlan lasts. After that? Who knows?” He put his arm around Byleth’s waist.

But the easy atmosphere of the meeting wasn’t meant to last. Rhea looked up from the sword in her arms with a glare as sharp as a dagger. “You let the traitor live. The wicked girl who-”

“Sothis chose to spare Edelgard and the others. It’s not your-”

“I made you!” Rhea roared, the beast within her coming to the surface.

“What I do, what the Sothis did while she was inside me, is not for you to decide! You are not the Progenitor God and if you cannot uphold her wishes, you need to stand down.” Byleth felt no fear, even though she lacked the power to truly defeat Rhea. The magic was no longer a part of her, but it knew her and would answer her call even if she didn’t touch the Crest Stone.

“You are a heretic!”

“Rhea, you go too far!” Seteth grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back. “You put the soul of the Progenitor God in this one. These are the consequences of that action.”

“Stand down before you become the monster the Empire believes you to be.”

Rhea cradled the sword, bringing the Crest Stone to her ear. She shook like a leaf in the wind, as if it spoke to her, whispering words she didn’t want to hear. She hugged the blade until it cut through her sleeves and drew blood. She lowered her eyes. “Perhaps.... Perhaps it is time I rested. Our people were always meant to sleep.”

“I believe that would be for the best,” Seteth said, his voice low and kind. “You have many loyal followers here. Flayn and I will be able to see to Fódlan until you wake.”

“Perhaps Mother will return then.”

Byleth exchanged a glance with Seteth, but said nothing as Rhea walked from the chamber, her steps so smooth she appeared to be gliding.

When her steps could no longer be heard from the upper stairwell, Claude released the breath he’d been holding. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Alright, what was that?”

“Her captivity left her more fragile than even I had anticipated,” Seteth said. “Perhaps using the form of the Immaculate One during the invasion… It was never an easy transformation, for any of us.”

“What about you? Will you just live forever?”

“I cannot answer that. I’ve spoken with Indech and Macuil… Both are bound to their other forms as I am bound to this one. We may continue to fade, slowly, or perhaps you are correct and Sothis will one day return, creating more Children and bringing us back to what we once were. For now, I will keep an eye on Rhea, ensure that she does sleep. When she wakes, I may take a page from your book and heal her mind, as you have done with Dimitri.” He stepped forward and pulled Byleth into a hug.

“I did not realize how wounded her mind was until I learned of you, of what she had done to you, of the experiments that came before. I have been remiss in my duties to her.” He pulled back. “Thank you, Byleth, for protecting Fódlan and returning the Sword of the Creator. Hopefully the Progenitor God will be able to rest without interruption.”

Claude held out Failnaught. “Take this, too. I’m sure it’s time they slept, as well. We’ve spoken to the others. As soon as they can afford to, they’ll be bringing their ‘Heroes’ Relics’ back. It won’t get rid of the perceived Crest superiority, but it’ll let us all sleep better at night.”

Seteth took the bow in one hand and patted Claude’s shoulder with the other. “And thank you for everything. I knew she couldn’t have done it without you.”

Claude grinned. “I don’t know about that, but I appreciate the sentiment. Take care, Seteth. You’ll be hearing from us soon enough. I promised Flayn all kinds of gifts from Almyra.”

“Good luck on your mission. I will be looking forward to your missives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone, this was a huge trip! It was my first fic to ever hit 1000 hits and now look at it.
> 
> It was a lot of fun to write!
> 
> I'm doing [Bad Things Happen Bingo](https://tk-duveraun.tumblr.com/tagged/bad-things-happens-bingo) and you can submit Bylaude (or other) prompts.


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